


A Tower on the Lake

by NoC6H12O64u



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Amell (Dragon Age) is not a Warden, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mage Rebellion, Mage Underground, Mages and Templars, Maleficarum, Sided with Templars, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2018-11-30 11:48:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11462949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoC6H12O64u/pseuds/NoC6H12O64u
Summary: After the events of Kinloch and Kirkwall, Eliza Amell returns to Ferelden to help the rebel mages. Caught up in the events of the Inquisition, she has to decide if she can forget the past in order to help, even if that means reconciling with a templar she never expected to see again.





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Getting back in the fanfiction game, so there may be times where the story sits for a while as I go back to rehash and make edits. I've already scrapped and rewrote this fic once, and it's still in the process. Warnings are for some battle violence/gore, drug references and smut later on. Chapters are going to be short at first, picking up at the attack on Haven. Will be longer later on. Hope you enjoy!

# A Tower on the Lake

##  In Your Heart Shall Burn 

### Chapter 1:Homecoming

The mage's back arched as a blade came precariously close to her spine. A gasp left her lips, and she took a side step, a disruption field erupting from her feet. The templar’s eyes were red, but instead of that rage they were filled with fear as his blade slowly finished the strike, hitting the ground with a solid thud. Eliza’s hair whipped around her and she drove her dagger, the size of a sword, into the gap between his chest piece and back. That templar grunted, blood oozing out of his mouth. She pulled back, that knife now at regular size, and the templar crumpled at her feet. The sound of metal against metal made her turn, and she would fade from the Lieutenant’s view. He let out a roar, fire erupting from behind him. A staff waved through the air, coming to rest behind the man’s back as another burst of flame engulfed the Lieutenant.

“And here I thought mages from the Circles were all passive children,” he laughed as her blade felled another Templar. “So glad to be wrong.”

“And I thought all Tevinter’s used blood magic. So glad to be wrong” she smirked, sarcasm dripping from her words. That blade being tucked back into her belt as the two rushed up the well-worn path to the village. Her battlemage armor made her stick out against the Tevinter robes, brown hair falling loose around her face, framed by her cowl. She was a few inches shorter than him, light build and seemingly at ease in the middle of the carnage. They had fought for hours, getting to the base of the mountains before running into the Venetori. There was no reasoning with them, they attacked on sight. They were both exhausted, panting as they rushed to the gates of the village. There was little time left, the roars of the army echoing in the valleys.

“And sassy, my fortune has improved,” he chuckled as they both rushed to the door. They both slammed their shoulders into it, and she let out a low curse as it bucked back against them, nearly knocking them on their backs.

“You were saying?”

“Kaffas. If someone could open this, I’d appreciate it!” he shouted. There were voices on the other side, but after a moment the doors would open. Eliza helped Dorian through, a hand under his arm as two men came running out, both dressed in armor. She felt a weight drop in her stomach, hoping her cowl was pulled up over her head as she kept her view down. “Ah… We’re here to warn you. Fashionably late, I’m afraid.” A man in a red cloak, trimmed with fur reached out to help, but Eliza just shook her head. “We’re a mite tired. Don’t mind us.” He pushed on Eliza’s arm and she nodded, letting him straighten up without her help. “My name is Dorian Pavus, and I bring grave news from Redcliffe—an army of rebel mages, right behind us.” He took in a breath and Eliza’s eyes went to the two men in front of them, both staring at Dorian. One of them was young and was dressed like an Orlesian Chevalier, his accent was from the Free Marches she could tell. His hair was short, dark brown, crystal blue eyes staring at them as Dorian explained that the mages were under the command of the Venatori, who were following the commands of the “Elder One.” Dorian turned to point out Calpernia and the Elder One, and Eliza turned to back up a little, her staff clutched tightly in her hands. “They were marching on Haven and when we realized we had to get here first.

“Cullen! A plan, anything,” the younger man asked, turning to the blonde Commander beside him. Eliza didn’t turn around, watching those marching masses getting closer and closer to Haven.

“Haven is no fortress, if we want to survive this we must control the battle,” he said firmly. Dorian struggled to stay on his feet, the momentary pause in battle allowed for all that adrenaline to disappate. Eliza reached out to steady him as he shook his head, muttering that he was fine.

“The trebuchets,” she said, nodding at them, and the younger man nodded.

“Bury the army,” he finished, turning he looked at Cullen. “Get who you can to the chantry. I will handle it.” The man, Cullen, would nod and turned, barking orders as Inquisition soldiers started to retreat towards the Chantry. Eliza moved with Dorian into those walls as yells echoed.

“Ahhh the fun just continues, doesn’t it,” Dorian laughed.

“Get to the Chantry,” she said, patting his shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he shouted as she ran off into the town. The sounds of people screaming were getting louder as buildings started to burn. Mages were at the walls, and people were starting to flee for the Chantry.

“I’m helping!” she yelled back. She took a quick turn around a corner, hearing the screams as villagers came face to face with Venatori. All she could hear was her own pulse, screaming in her ears as she rushed into the fray.


	2. Andraste’s Knickersweasels

Eliza let out a roar, lighting ripping through her staff as crackled from one Venatori to the other; jumping down the line of mages. They were stunned and the villagers took the chance to run. The Venatori collapsed, and Eliza rushed forward, staff raised as she cut down the first one. A fire rune appeared under her and she dashed away, hitting him in the side of the skull with her staff. The _crack_ made her stomach queezy, but Eliza ignored it as the mage crumpled to the ground. The staff rolled over her hand as she turned to finish off the other Venatori who was scrambling back. There was yell behind her, and with one step Eliza turned, staff leveled, electricity crackling off of the warped wood. The Venatori Zealot had his sword raised, that steel helmet reflecting the fires that surrounded them. He didn't move, and it took Eliza a moment to realize that there was a sword sticking through the soft tissue right under his ribs. There was a grunt, and the Venatori crumpled forward onto his knees, blood dripping out of the helm before he crashed into the ground. Behind him, panting, was the Commander of the Inquisition. Cullen flicked his sword, blood splattering onto the snow next to him, and when those eyes met hers, she knew that her gift at hiding had finally failed her. Her hand went absently to her head, noticing that her cowl had fallen during the fighting, brown hair in a tangled braid behind her. She cursed, lowering that staff as they stared at each other.

“A…Amell?”

“ _Andraste’s knickersweasels_ ,” she cursed, "Duck!" She raised her staff and Cullen would crouch down as lightening crackled from the end. The Venatori Zealot behind him crumpled to the ground and before he could fully stand she rushed over to him, extending her arm, “Come on, we have to move.” The attack knocked both of them out of that faze, and Cullen took her arm. Eliza pulled hard, rushing towards that Chantry. Inquisition soldiers were fighting off Venatori, and Dorian was there, his staff raised as fire engulfed a Venatori near a Chantry chancellor. She ducked under his spell, an arm coming around the Chancellor as she dragged him into the Chantry. Dorian helped the Inquisition soldiers close the door. There was an explosion in the distance, and a faint rumble caused everyone to take a moment to breath. The Herald of Andraste apparently had succeeded in his plan.

Eliza sat that Chancellor down as he winced, “Brave man…” His face was bruised and bloodied, blood soaking his white robes at the sides. It was a lot of blood, and the man could barely stand on his own. 

“He was. He took on a Venatori…” Dorian said as Eliza raised her hands, asking permission before her hands moved over his sides.

“Tried to, but I am no Templar,” the Chancellor coughed. “That’s for sure.” He would look up past Eliza, and she could feel eyes on the back of her head. Raising her hands, she shook her hair out of that tattered braid. _Don't turn around. Don't turn around._

“Commander, are your eyes broken?” Dorian asked. There was a small sound from behind her, but any words that might have been said in response were lost as a roar echoed around them. “What was…”

“Dragon,” Eliza said, taking that leather cord that had kept her braid together and just wrapping it around her hair. The tight bun would be good enough. She still didn't turn around, green eyes steeled as she gripped her staff.

“You are surprising, aren’t you,” Dorian chuckled, "Southerners fight dragons often?" Eliza turned to look at Dorian with a smirk, but her gaze continued, meeting Cullen's. He was still staring at her, and Eliza would have rather been out in the courtyard fighting off Venatori than trying to understand what he was thinking behind those eyes. Panicked soldiers would rush from the wings of the Chantry, reporting to their commander that there had been signs of an Archdemon. The soldiers and chantry members started to whisper loudly, but it was immediately silenced when loud bangs were heard at the Chantry door. Soldiers went to the door, quickly removing the barricade and yanking it open to allow for the same young man, as well as his companions, to come rushing into the Chantry. Cullen finally broke that eye contact, rushing to the young man who had entered; the Herald of Andraste. She didn't know if she should bow, be in awe, or just be exhausted from the hours of fighting. She had heard he was a noble from Ostwick, but from the look of him he was a rogue; not a commander. This must have been a lot for him to process. She _almost_ felt sorry.

Eliza turned away, and that Chancellor coughed, motioning for her to come near. She did so and he held onto her shoulder, imploring that she help him up. As the Herald and Commander discussed possible; Eliza could only hear bits of their conversation.

“If only those trebuchets remained an option…”

“They are. _If_ we turn the last of them to the mountains above us,” Cullen turned from Dorian to the Herald. 

“We’re overrun… To hit the enemy, we would have to bury Haven.” The Herald looked nervous, Eliza sighed, he was barely a man, too young for a war.

“This is _not_ survivable now. The only chance is how spitefully we end this.” Cullen said, shifting from one foot to another as Dorian quickly walked over to him, shaking his head.

“That’s not acceptable.” Dorian said firmly. “We didn’t risk our lives racing here only to have you drop rocks on our heads.” 

“Should we submit? Let him kill us in his own way?” Cullen snapped.

“Dying is typically a last resort, not first! For a Templar, you think like a blood mage.”

“There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you made the summer pilgrimage… the People can escape,” The Chancellor coughed. “She must have shown me… so I could show you.”

“Would it work, Cullen?”

“Possibly, if he shows us the path. But what of your escape?” The Herald didn’t look at his Commander, who took the sign and went to rally his men. Dorian helped Eliza with the Chancellor.

“I was expecting some action, but this is certainly more interesting than I thought,” Dorian chuckled as the Chancellor gave his last comments to the Herald. Avoiding the Commander’s gaze, Eliza would help move the Chancellor through the Chantry. There were rooms upon rooms under the Chantry, and with a cough he would lead the rest of the Inquisition. Eliza manipulated veilfire in front of her, lighting the way as they finally emerged onto the mountain side. The troops would fan out, setting up a perimeter as they started to move. It was a fast march to the ridge-line, the distance they needed to be safe from any avalanche. A flare was lit, and the rumble of the mountain could be heard in the distance. She didn't turn to look at the avalanche, but could hear the dragon roar above them. Her focus was the Chancellor; who was holding on the best he could. Eliza had to barter with a soldier in order to get another blanket for the man, but she knew he was fading, and that the longer they marched the worse his condition would get. There was no arguing for a rest, those advisers set the pace, and it felt like hours before they finally settled into camp. 

_What did I just get myself into?_


	3. The Dawn Will Come

“So… your name is Dorian?” she asked as they sat at camp. Much debating had occurred, but scouts found a suitable valley for the Inquisition to rest in. Sitting by Chancellor Roderick, she was tending to his wounds. The man groaned and she sighed, her hand chilled as magic flowed through her. The cooled hand was placed on his side, causing him to sigh. The camp was bustling with activity, ever since they found the Herald of Andraste half frozen to death in the snow. Seeker Cassandra, Commander Cullen and a few other members of the Inquisition had helped bring the man in, and now after some medical attention, they were just waiting to see if he would wake up… and loudly arguing about the next move.

“You heard correctly,” he smiled, leaning back against a beam as they watched the advisors from a distance. “Ahhh look at them… the circular logic is very impressive you know. Each one arguing almost the same point from just a slightly different angle.” He turned to look at her. She had spread out her meager belongings, a staff, knife, small sack that barely had anything in it. “I don’t believe we had time for proper introductions while we were battling for our lives.” Eliza just chuckled, “what should I call you?”

“Eliza. Eliza Amell, your regular apostate,” she smiled up at him.

“We’re all apostates according to them,” he chuckled, nodding at the members of the Chantry and Templars that patrolled around them. “At least you’re not from Tevinter.” She went to open her mouth and he shook his head, “No, I’m not a magister. Really, do you Southerners actually know anything about Tevinter?” Eliza just sighed, leaning back against the tent’s post, watching them bicker. “That being said, I think we came to the wrong place.” 

“How so?”

“Well… two apostates show up at the gates of a Chantry, warning them about the other mages marching to kill everyone, and on top of that the Chantry is full of Templars.” Eliza looked back at him as he shrugged, “To be honest that sounds like the beginning of a fantastic joke.”

“It was your plan, I was just a happy accomplice,” she chuckled. “I don’t think we have to worry… we’re probably low on their lists of concerns…” at that moment, the Commander’s eyes looked up from the war map, on Eliza. She felt red creeping up her neck and into her cheeks, looking away from him, and catching the eyes of Dorian. His eyebrow creeped up, glancing at the Commander, then back at Eliza. “No.”

“Oh, come on!” he whined, “You can’t have that kind of a reaction and not tell me all the juicy details.” Dorian moved quickly to sit down in between Eliza and where the Commander was still brooding over the map. Eliza looked past him, that commander rubbing his neck as he looked down, his eyes stealing glance up before looking down again. She coughed for a moment, rubbing her face and groaning.

“No,” she said gently, looking at him with a weakened, pained expression. “It’s already been too long of a night, and although I love our time together, this is one story that I don’t want to retell.” He sighed, disappointed, but nodded.

“Keep your secrets then. Just remember how this team works. Of the two of us, I’m the dashing brooding one,” he said. Eliza turned, looking at Mother Giselle as she heard the woman’s voice. She was talking to the Herald, who was now awake, looking completely crushed. The mountain must not have gone in his favor, Eliza looked over at Chancellor Roderick, the young man with the wide brim hat standing next to him. She didn’t move, watching him as Roderick slowly slumped. A sigh escaped her lips and she leaned her head against her knees. That’s when the camp started to sing.

It was Mother Giselle… Eliza looked up to see her standing close to the Herald, who looked even worse than the first time she saw him. It was a Chantry hymn, and after everything that damn group put her through, Eliza couldn’t help but mouth the words. Dorian turned to look over the camp, before turning back to Eliza with a bewildered look.

“Do you _all_ know this?” he whispered. "Is this a thing in the south?" Eliza just chuckled, not knowing why the song brought a smile to her lips. Maybe it’s because she was used to screaming it, mocking it, when she was younger. Now… now it just brought comfort, even with those memories.

“It seems so,” Eliza whispered as the majority of the camp sang in unison. It echoed off the mountain, bringing a bit of warmth to that downtrodden place. Once the last note rang, Dorian went to go gather inquisition soldiers to help build a pyre for Roderick. Eliza just moved, pulling her hair back as she knelt next to straw haired boy.

“He heard the song… that brought peace,” the boy murmured, wide brim hat obscuring his face, but before Eliza could say anything, he was gone.

All she could do take the Chancellor’s hand… growing cool by the moment. “The.. the Light shall lead her safely, Through the… paths of this world, and into the next. For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward flame, She should see fire and go towards Light. The Veil holds no uncertainty for her, And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker, Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword,” Eliza fumbled at the beginning, but the Chant of Benediction soon poured from her lips like a cool spring. It was refreshing to hear the words, and as she put Roderick’s hand down, her mind wandered to the last time she was in a Chantry, or even said a chant. “Blessed are they who stand before, The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker’s will is written.” The second chant came off her lips a bit easier, but as her gaze drifted up, Eliza saw a pair of military boots on the other side of Roderick. Her mouth went dry, but fortunately for her, a voice from behind spoke. 

“That was very kind of you child,” it was Mother Giselle. She had known of the Mother’s work in the Hinterlands, and although rebel mages and Templars fought in the valley, she had always been respectful and kind to both sides, as well as the refugees. Still… to have a member of the Chantry thank her, it caught Eliza off guard. It had been a long year of fighting, she wasn’t used to kind words… they were a sign of weakness in the pitched war mages and templars found themselves in. Inquisition soldiers soon came to wrap Roderick’s body in spare linen as others tried to find something for the pyre. There were many bodies, and many yet to come. The religious focus of this band seemed to dictate everything. The pyre was important… both so they didn’t have to carry the bodies, and to give these men and women of the Inquisition the proper rites.

“He… he was a man of the Chantry, it was only right,” Eliza practically mumbled as she stood. As her eyes lifted, she could see military boots in front of her, which gave way breeches and the glint of a sword catching the fire light. _Ten years and nothing, but now it’s every minute you seem to be there…_

“I’m… I’m surprised you would have that memorized,” the voice was rough, and Eliza could almost image the surprised look as she took a step back, allowing those soldiers to work.

She couldn’t help but chuckle, “They were…good at teaching us the Chants in Kinloch.” Eliza looked at him, and now with the battle over and an uneasy peace falling on the camp, she realized how tired he looked. There was a ring of red from sleepless nights, his face was older than she remembered. _It seems that the Maker hasn’t been kind to either of us…_ “It is one I’ve had to say too many times this past year,” she watched as pain flickered in his eyes. Eliza turned to Mother Giselle, “I will go to make sure he receives a proper burial. The snow will… make it difficult…” The Chantry Mother nodded, thanking her softly. Eliza would bid her farewell before turning back to that man, “Knight-Commander.”

“It’s… just Commander,” he corrected gently and Eliza nodded.

“My apologies.” She would turn, pulling her hood up and going to the edge of that camp. There were many dead, and after some convincing, Eliza convinced Dorian to help her with the pyres. Many in the camp would gather to sing verses of the Chant of Benediction, and Eliza did her best to discreetly stoke the fires as they consumed the departed. There was some effort for the ashes to be collected from the ground, at least for the Chancellor. Some of the soldiers were unknown, the camp having swollen to breaking right before the attack. They sat down in their own part of camp, away from the Templars who watched them cautiously, but it was too long and hard of a day for those sorts of wounds to come to the surface. Eliza found herself on her back, looking up at a remarkably clear sky. She fell asleep counting the stars, like she had when she was a child.

  


_A hand traced over her face; finger tips brushing over her cheeks, her forehead, comforting. A gentle voice was calling her name. She tossed in her sleep, opening her eyes to see that familiar Circle chamber. It had been so many years since Kinloch, but even the scratchiness of the feather bed came back. She heard the voice again, sitting up slowly as she pulled that sheet to her collar. The room was empty and dark save what moonlight could enter through the window. Eliza leaned back on the bed, closing her eyes. That’s when she felt a hand cupping her cheek gently, a thumb dragging lazily over her lips, lingering on her lower lip. Her eyes opened slowly and came to meet a pair of fiery red eyes. A warped face was in front of her, crystals jutting from his jaw line and hairline, and they sparkled like dangerous rubies in the moonlight. A gloved hand held her chin roughly and the eyes of an abomination stared straight into her soul as she heard a course laugh._

“Maker!” she shouted as she jolted awake. She heard a hiss, looking to see that she had accidentally kicked Dorian in the shin. He turned with a groan, cursing wildly in Tevene. She was still panting, eyes searching wildly to make sure that the abomination she saw wasn’t there, as well as that she didn’t set the campsite on fire. When she didn’t see anyone, she laid back, panting as the sounds of heavy breathing and sores hit her ears. She let the sound soak over her, trying to drown out the sound of her drumming heart. “Sorry Dorian,” she whispered as he just groaned and acknowledgement and turned his back to her. Eliza realized she was soaked in sweat, and she would move from that makeshift sleeping mat, pushing herself up to leave camp. She went to the edge, channeling her magic to heat her skin, steam soon pouring off her body as that fabric dried. Turning back, she heard someone else yelling in the camp. Someone was crying out a phrase of the Chant before deafening silence… she wasn’t the only one having a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a longer chapter, but the end of the first 'segment'. Still getting use to this style of formatting.


	4. The Spirit with Straw Hair

##  From the Ashes 

### Chapter 1: The Spirit with Straw Hair

The Inquisition traveled for days, led by the Inquisitor, who in turn was guided by Solas. Although it raised questions, like how an elf knew these mountains so well, none of the concerns were voiced openly. Whispers ran rampant as people looked for anything to talk about. Morale was too low, and the injured got worse every day as they wandered. Eliza and a few other mages did their best to heal those they could, but it was only on the sixth day, when a castle seemed to materialize out of the mountain, that everyone sighed a breath of relief. The sick were the first ones that were tended, a make shift infirmary set up in the yard. There was a surgeon, who was a real wonder with herbs and other medicines, but Eliza did her best to soothe those who needed it. Some of the Templars were reluctant, but pressure from the surgeon, along with some insults, went a long way in gaining their cooperation. Eliza wouldn’t sleep far from the infirmary, just in case. The loft of a barn nearby provided enough comfort, a roof and a bit of warmth if she slept over the hearth. If it wasn’t the infirmary, she was in the library, listening to Dorian criticize every book the Inquisition seemed to bring back. It brought a little laughter, and although she had to cut through the elf’s study to get out, it was a warm enough place to soothe her. At least there was no fighting there.

“Hold his hand,” there was a gently urge behind her, but Eliza wouldn’t turn. The voice was familiar enough that she would just gently take the soldier’s hand. His fever was high, she could feel it radiating from his hand as he fussed in his sleep.

The soldier would shutter, calling out for his sister. “Sick with a fever as a boy. Sister use to hold his hand to help him sleep. Warm. Soft. Kind.” The soldier would slip to sleep and she would smile, cooling her hand with frost before placing it on his forehead. “You’re kind. Why? He’s a templar. You don’t like Templars.” She soothed the boy with a bit of a song before letting his hand go and placing a cool cloth over his head.

“They are in pain.” She said simply, turning to look at that straw haired boy with the wide brimmed, and he jumped. “You disappear a lot…”

“You remember me?”

“Yes,” she smiled. Eliza moved her hand. “I’m Eliza… and you’re the boy they’ve been talking about.”

“Fear. He’s different. He disappears. Not natural.” the boy muttered, walking away. Eliza would follow quietly, noticing how the eyes of the surgeon and others were on him. “Could be corrupted and possess mages. Why are you not worried?”

“You’re a spirit, not a demon., or something in between the Fade and there” she shrugged, and he turned to look at her, wide blue eyes meeting hers. Eliza chuckled, “I can’t judge… I bet some people think that I’m a danger to the Inquisition."

“You’re not afraid? Of becoming a danger?” He finished and Eliza just nodded.

“No, if I did then I’d be hiding in a room right now. It’s part of life,” she shrugged, leaning back on her heels and standing up. “I am curious. Spirits usually either want to stay in the Fade, or want to come here with someone… but you’re alone.”

“Yes. I… I came to help. I couldn’t. I stayed to try and help others.”

“That’s very kind.” Eliza smiled.

“I make most people forget.”

“Why?”

“I make them. It’s easier if I… mess up.” He sighed. “Sometimes I scare people.”

“Have you made me forget?”

“Yes. I… I did not want to scare you.”

“Cole…” she chuckled with an amused smile. “Hey...I remember your name…" she shook her head with a small smile. "You don’t have to make me forget.”

“Oh, but what if I messed it up. Can I make you forget?” He said, raising his hand, and Eliza smiled, shaking her head. “Why?”

“Because we learn from mistakes.” She asked, taking his hand and lowering it. “And learning makes us better.”

A small wiry smile crossed his lips under that wide brim, but it would change when Eliza’s own changed. The Seeker and the Commander were coming down to the lower courtyard with the Inquisitor. “Sun setting over Lake Calenhad… Cool breeze off the lake makes the summer less stifling. I just can’t decide what move to make… the pawn is warm in my hand, do I let him win again or do I make it a challenge…”

“Cole,” Eliza paused, “are you… _saying what I’m thinking?”_

“Y…yes. Well it’s what you feel. Heavy. Heavy stones and vines strangling. I’m sorry. Should I not?” he asked as they grew closer.

“We usually don’t want people to know what we are thinking.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s better if you do…”

“Cole. Stop,” Eliza urged, moving over to the surgeon as the Inquisitor and the other advisers started to check on the men in the infirmary. There was no reason for her to get in the way… or linger as they overlooked their work. Eliza was good at her job, and now that the lower courtyard had been dedicated to the infirmary, she and the camp surgeon had a lot of space to work. She pushed her hair back away from her face, watching as the Inquisitor started to talk to Cole, Solas and Vivienne nearby, watching carefully. Scouts and soldiers were gathering as Commander and Seeker Cassandra started going over plans for putting Skyhold back together. Roofs and towers were still damaged, but most of the space was smoothly being dedicated and divided among different groups within the Inquisition. Scouts were sent out, and she looked away quickly as the Commander looked up in their direction. Eliza excused herself, letting out a deep sigh as she went to that far staircase. As light started to wane, the lights in _The Heralds Retreat_ started to glow. Songs were starting up, and it made Eliza smile. Although she would normally join Dorian for a heavy dose of drinking and storytelling, she bypassed the tavern and made her way to the Chantry’s garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cole is my favorite. Absolutely love his character so i'm like 90% sure the point of this section was to 1) Have Cole somewhere and 2) Draw out my character's personality. So sorry if it just seems like a filler. .. sorry not sorry


	5. An Arm's Length

###  **From the Ashes** Chapter 2: An Arm's Length

The Divine Mothers, Clerics and other members of the Chantry had moved in quickly after the Inquisitor provided the supplies they needed. They started to turn the garden into a sanctuary for the devout; favoring statues of Andraste over flowers and herbs. There were pots with elfroot growing steadily, but the small Chantry space always seemed packed with the devoted, but Eliza had lost her faith a long time ago, so the statues did nothing more than make her uneasy. It wasn’t the sanctuary that she was looking for, it was the pavilion. It sat to the side, near a staircase to the ramparts. That was the hub of activity during the day, almost giving the Chantry a run for its money. In the confusion and fevered pace that Skyhold was in, going to the pavilion was a chance to retreat from it all and catch your breath... that was if there was no one playing games or already there. Now with the cold moonlight steadily rising, the garden was empty. The only light came from candles burning against the walls. They provided a soft glow, but it was the moon's light that allowed for Eliza to find that pavilion. 

Beautify carved wooden seats with simple cushions were set up there, for people to do… well whatever they did. Eliza didn’t pretend to know what the soldiers and scouts and other arms of the Inquisition did on their off time. There were a few tables that had cards, dominoes, and even a board game or two set up. A small smile crossed her lips as she ran her hand over the chess board, remembering some long past games. Her mind was so distracted she didn’t notice she was alone until that wave of uneasiness passed over her. It was pure reflex that her anxiety and fear manifested into static electricity, flickering and crackling around her fingers. They raced up her blue tunic, encasing her arm as she turned, her pose not at all afraid, prepared. Her eyes caught that of the person behind her and both jumped.

“Maker,” she breathed, and she swore she heard it on his voice as well. That electricity dissipated and she shook out her hand to let the remaining static fly into the air like fireflies. “Please don’t sneak up on me…I could have hurt you.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Eliza was honestly surprised he didn’t stumble over his words. She was nervous, _Why?_ Her internal monologed was talking rapidly as Eliza turned to go sit up on the banister. Deer skin boots kicked back and forth as she let out a heavy sigh. This was what she was trying to avoid. She had spent every waking moment in the library or working in the infirmary, and stayed as far away from the training fields as she could, as far away from the towers on either side of the drawbridge. Eliza finally mustered the strength to look up at Cullen; and he just had one hand on his sword, seeming to study her. The light was dim but she could still catch his golden eyes; they weren’t as bright as they were years ago, not as happy. It was just… heavy, a weight on him as if he was carrying an invisible burden around his neck. He looked better without the heavy Templar armor on, it had always looked too cumbersome. Although she was glad he kept wearing red, it looked good on him. _Stop. No. Don’t think stuff like that_. Eliza sighed, watching as he took another step into that pavilion. Now he was in between her and the exit.  A familiar pull of fear and anxiety came over, channeled into her fingers as she tapped on the banister. _Always know your exits. Always be able to **reach** them.  **STOP!** You're not in the Wilds anymore. No one is after you. _ The silence between them was stifling, and it made her head race even more than it already did. She hated silence.

“Alright, what do you want?” Eliza winced as she pulled her hair out of that ponytail, she hadn't meant for her tone to be so harsh. Her fingers moved to pull that wild hair back into a braid, something to keep it tame. It was a nervous habit, something she did when she was trying to fill the awkward silence…just like when he rubbed his neck... which he was doing... _Maker, he still hasn't changed from that unsure boy I met in the Circle_ , she watched him out of the corner of her eye. He rubbed his neck, one hand on his sword as he took another step forward. Eliza ran a hand over her face, the braid falling down, “If you want to ask about the mages at Haven, I wasn't part of that rebel group. I went to Redcliffe to try and...”

“It’s good to see that you’re alright,” he finally broke the silence, cutting her off and causing Eliza to look up back at him. He was nervous, even though there was little light except for the guards above them, it was painfully obvious that he was struggling. “After Uldred was killed… well no one knew where you went. We all thought… that you had died.” That was a name she hadn't heard in a while and it ripped into her like a mace:  _Uldred... how many of her friends had he killed? Turned into abominations? Corrupted with honey words about how blood magic wasn't that bad... He could die a dozen times and it wouldn't be enough..._

“Um... Some of the Knights were talking about the rite of annulment and, well, a few of us ran,” she said simply. From the look he gave her... was it regret? It caused Eliza to pause for a moment, running her fingers behind her ear, catching a piece of missed hair.  _You weren't with us though..._ As far as Eliza could remember, he hadn't been with the rest of the mages and templars at the base of that tower, when they sealed it to prevent the demons from escaping. The memory made her head and heart hurt and she just shook her head. That anxiety was swelling in her chest, that pull to get out of that place before the memories overtook her. “Well, if you were just here to say hello, then I think we’re done with that.” She pushed herself off that wooden bannister, and Eliza skated around the sides of the pavilion. Her feet didn't even hit the stairs before she felt a hand close gently around her wrist. “Cullen…” His hand was warm, and she didn’t know if it was just him or because he was wearing gloves. Her pulse quickened a little, _No. Calm down. You're fine. He's not like Carroll, or Hadley... or any of the others they send out to catch apostates. You're **fine**_ **.**

“I just… want to talk,” he said simply, his eyes looking for hers as she just looked forward and down, studying the stairs. “Eliza...”

“What is there to talk about?” she asked with a sigh, turning to look at him, keenly aware of that grip on her wrist. _No… please don’t look at me like that, I'm acting like a bitch and you're still wanting to talk?!_ her mind was screaming. _No not that look..._ _How could I say no to that look…_ “It’s been a really long time. I... I heard you went to Kirkwall.”

“And I heard you were in the Free Marches… Ostwick…” he didn’t let go over her wrist, holding it gently.  _How did he know I was in the Free Marches_?

“Wycome, mostly… but it was a little too much,” she chuckled. Wycome wasn't known for the same restraint like in Kirkwall or Starkhaven. Eliza pulled her hand back gently, and he released her hand, “It was a good place to hide, but I ended up traveling the Free Marches a little before wandering home.”

“You became an apostate?”

“Yes…” she said slowly, looking up at him to get a sense of how that news would affect him. _Apostate_ , she hated that title, she hated everything about it. Not being accepted. Feared. Hated. Cast out. The only benefit of being an Apostate was that it made highwaymen and thieves pause before targeting you. The flip side was that you had to avoid civilization… or at least the Chantry. _Confusion? Why are you confused? What did you expect me to do? Let Carroll drive a sword through my back?_  “Like I said… some of the mages heard the word Annulment. Most of the Templars were in the tower and we didn’t know what was happening. With First Enchanter Irving gone all we had was Wynne… and then she went with the Wardens to try and save Irving and… We got scared.”

“Why did you not return? After the Blight?”

“It… it was too hard.” She backed up, she was good at talking her way out of situations, had to be after the Blight. "I was afraid of what the Knight-Commander would do since I ran away. He was always fair but... you know how Greagoir was..." Eliza didn’t need to see where she was going, but this was the first time she felt unsure. “Besides, I wasn’t the only one who left after the Blight.”

“That… was different,” the hesitation hid something. It made her pause, which didn't help her whole escape-the-awkward-situation plan.

“How?” Cullen shook his head, moving again, _towards her_. Eliza realized that her chance for an easy getaway was now gone. She watched him, and she tried to shake off that edging fear in the back of her mind. _That war is over, stop acting like you're in it!_ Her mind was screaming, and distracted her enough to make her stiffen in surprise when he wrapped his arms around her, and Eliza froze as she felt him against her. That hug tightened a bit, and she felt her own arms moving, wrapping around his back so that her face was pressed into the fur collar of his cloak.  _Oh Maker… no no no no…You're an idiot, Eliza. You're an idiot for doing this to yourself._

“I’m glad you’re safe,” the sentiment was repeated as he hugged her, and Eliza didn’t know what to do. She had been trying to disengage, and keeping everyone at Skyhold an arm’s length away was easy. Dorian was her only friend, as so far as they both trusted each other and were wary of the Chantry and Templars. Keeping everyone at arms length would make it easy if she had to leave.  _Him_... Cullen... why did she let that defense down around him enough to allow him to _hug her._ She couldn’t help but sigh, resting her head against his shoulder, fur tickling her nose as she hugged him back.

“Me too…”  _Andraste preserve me..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Angsty backstory on Amell to come. Just a reminder that my Amell didn't end up becoming the Warden in DA:O.


	6. Iron and Ice

**From the Ashes** Chapter 3: Iron and Ice

 

The pace of Skyhold came in waves of furious action, with lulls of utter stillness. Everyone spoke of the war as if it was some glorious adventure, but in reality Eliza spent most of her time trying to fill in the spaces between work. Never the less, recruits and conscripts were coming daily, and integrated into the military and different forces with little difficulty. With every victory, every closed rift, every mission completed, his power and influence grew. People were coming to and from the keep for supplies, audiences with officials, and even just a glimpse of the Inquisitor. It was difficult for Eliza, the religious fervor was almost stifling, and it was only in the library that she received a little reprieve. Dorian criticized the different books available, and although the Inquisitor would return with some new tomes or books after his weeks long adventures, they never seemed enough.

“I don’t think you’ll find an anarchist librarian,” Eliza chuckled as she watched him move around.

“It is a dream, but can you blame me?” he pulled a book off the shelf and made a disgusted noise, “I mean really? This is Chantry propaganda against Tevinter. I’m not saying that we are a shining example of devotion, but really? This garbage?”

“You could always go back to the Imperium and retrieve some for us.” Dorian turned and gave her a disapproving look, “I’m teasing. I don’t know what I would do if you left.” She sighed, turning the page in her book.

“You’ll start spouting the Chants like the rest of these people,” he said, gesturing at the numerous Sisters and other members of the Chantry. As he went on another lecture about the inconsistencies within Chantry teachings, Eliza couldn’t focus. It had been almost a month since she had that conversation with Cullen, and besides a few long glances and brief conversations, there was nothing. Templars in the Keep were always talking about him, and what had happened at Kirkwall with Knight-Commander Meredith, and the few discussions she had with Varric on the subject were not helpful. To be honest, she avoided Varric. He knew the Champion of Kirkwall, and although she had traveled the Free Marches, she never thought to ever return to Kirkwall. Despite the fact that it is where her mother’s family was from. The idea that _her_ cousin was the Champion of Kirkwall, and one of the people who started the Mage Rebellion, it was a little overwhelming. He had offered to set up a meeting, since their small noble house had been drastically reduced, but Eliza had avoided him at every turn. She liked being a nobody, and had been one for so long, it was a terrifying idea to become _someone_. Eliza sighed, closing her book and rubbing her face, this was all too much. If it wasn’t for the fact there was nowhere to go, she would have run after Haven. With Red Templars and Venatori about, it was dangerous for anyone, but a powerful mage _and_ a former member of the Inquisition? She might as well have a target on her back. Dorian had tried to encourage her to get out and work out some of her anxiety by fighting the good fight, but even the idea of working with the Templars _in_ Skyhold made her nervous. Although Mages were tolerated, the Inquisitor’s leaning to Vivienne’s point of view was making Eliza feel a little less comfortable.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?” That slightly accented voice pulled her out of her head and back to the present. 

“No… you’re not… I just have a lot on my mind,” Eliza didn’t look up, only shaking her head as she rubbed her temples.

“Well, after the Inquisitor’s meeting Hawke’s informant, your time is about to be consumed.” That got her attention. A small smirk caused Dorian's mustache to curl up a bit. “What? You haven’t heard?”

“Do I look like I’m privy to that sort of information?” Eliza chuckled, putting down her book on that ever growing stack next to the chair.

“Apparently not,” he chuckled. “We, the Inquisition, are going to Adamant Fortress to stop the Wardens in their foolish pursuit of Blood Magic and that nonsense. That same old silly tune, _Lets play with magic we don’t understand. It will make us incredibly powerful._ Ugh. Please don’t ever do something as idiotic as that. Even if the Wardens _did_ agree to it for good reasons, it was still idiotic. We will be trying to stop an army of demons and Wardens that are controlled by the Venatori… This is something that will require the might of the full Inquisition. You’ll have to come with us of course… between the Surgeon,  who needs your expertise, and myself needing a mage that I can trust, you’ll just have to come.”

“Dorian, I am not a fighter.”

He could only pause before laughed out loud, earning a glare from her, “Are you serious? Did you forget our epic battle to Haven? We fought for hours through enemy mages and I watched you cut down Venatori and Red Templars like they were wet tissues. No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mage fight the way you do. Besides, once at the Fortress, who is going to watch my back? Vivienne? Iron Bull? Sera?”

“The Inquisitor probably.”

“Pssshhhhttt, he’s going to be too busy saving the world and killing demons in droves. I need someone I know can handle their own,” he winked at her, “You’re my girl.”

“You’re going to make me blush,” Eliza laughed and Dorian just smiled.

“Don’t tell anyone though. If word were to get back to my father he might piss his smallcloth in excitement.” Eliza just laughed, knowing there was no way she was going to get out of it. In fact, it explained why the Surgeon was stockpiling herbs and why the military part of the keep was starting to prepare to move.

 

With Dorian’s plan apparently settled, Eliza made her way out of the library, to start to double check her gear and supplies. That apostate took a longer route to avoid Solas’ study, and it took her out to the balcony. She was about to head down the long staircase, but heard someone clear their voice behind her. Eliza flinched. She turned slowly on her heels, and her hands would clench. There was Madame de Fer, Vivienne herself, looking down with disapproval.

“You. You’re the mage that works with the surgeon. Are you not?” she asked and Eliza wished she could have faded into mist right there. Unfortunately, the Iron Lady could have probably forced her to rematerialize, her attitude towards here was complicated; a mix of jealousy for her gifts, as well as utter distain for her view of her fellow mages.

“Yes, Madame,” Eliza said with a small nod. Vivienne looked amused, and that was not necessarily a good thing.

“They say you are very good with potions and herbs. To be honest, I’m a little surprised you would be working with a surgeon,” she said, descending from her space at the top of the stairs, onto the landing where Eliza was currently at.

“How so?”

“Well, the surgeon tries not to use magic unless absolutely necessary,” Vivienne was sizing her up, Eliza knew that, but forced her spine to be like a steel bar. “It’s interesting that she would allow a mage to help.”

“I know how to heal with and without magic, Madame,” Eliza said simply, green eyes glaring into hers fiercely. It was a struggle of wills… all be it a _polite_ struggle of wills.

“Where did you get instruction? You’re Circle?”

“No, Madame. I am self-taught,” Eliza wanted to just jump off that rail and start running to the court yard. Solas and Vivienne, she didn’t understand why they both made her feel sick. Vivienne just gave her a small smile.

“Life as an apostate must have been difficult, to learn such a skill.”

“It’s not for everyone, but I didn’t choose it willingly,” Eliza regretted saying that last part. It opened questions for Vivienne, lines for investigation that she did not want followed.

“Ah, so you were at a Circle,” she said, walking closer with that calm, assertive walk that made men in the court weak in the knees, but just made Eliza feel as if she was being stalked by a predator. “From your accent, you are Ferelden?” Eliza just nodded, watching the Enchanter as she walked around her. “Hmmm, so I’m guessing Kinloch… but with your age, that must have been during the Blight.”

“It was a chaotic time,” Eliza agreed.

“Well, if you were at Kinloch, how come the Templars didn’t collect you?” Eliza tried to steel herself for that question, knowing exactly where the First Enchanter was going. She might as well have said it, _Where is your phylactery, darling?_

“Like I said… it was a chaotic time. In the process of repairing the tower, some of us who left were left alone.” It was simple enough. The only downside was that Eliza practically admitted that she was a fugitive apostate to a First Enchanter who _detested_ apostates and the Mage Rebellion. Vivienne just smiled and nodded.

“I see. Well I hear you have quite a gift,” Vivienne would retreat back to those stairs, on her way back to her lounging area. “When this is all over and the Circles are rebuilt, we should consider having you come to the White Spire. Such an addition would benefit my Circle greatly.” Eliza would just politely smile, thanking her before rushing down that stairwell.

“I hate her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read a few chapters ago, I basically disclaimed that it was my "I love Cole and want to make sure I have an exchange with him chapter"
> 
> This serves the same purpose... because I hate Vivienne and always struggle with getting enough approval in the game lol


	7. Deathroot

##  Here Lies the Abyss

### Chapter 1: Deathroot

_The Hinterlands were always beautiful at night. She could hear that fire crackling behind her, and the talking of other apostates. She was sitting at the edge of their camp, overlooking the Crossroads. The grass was cool under her, scratchy against her legs, but it didn't seem to bother her. Camp, and the Apostates, seemed far away, but all she could look at was that small red vial, barely longer than her finger. The glass was cool in her hand, markings were faded along one flat side. It glowed brightly, but the liquid that filled the central vial gave off no warmth. She wanted to find a way to hide it, but right now it would dangle from a leather cord, resting against her sternum. The warm summer night was almost stifling, and the fire behind her started to roar. Eliza turned quickly, to look behind her, watching as the three Apostates that had been sitting near the fire were lying prone, thrashing as the fire consumed them. The flames lept and crackled as if they had their own mind, racing across that grass towards Eliza. Flames leapt at her, but didn’t burn as they started to race up her arms.  A feeling of anger swelled in her; anger at the Templars who betrayed them, hunted them, anger at the Chantry that damning them, anger at her mother who letting them take her, it swelled in her chest. It was a fire burning in her chest that grew even as Eliza tried to calm herself down. That red vial would fall from her hands as she braced herself on the ground, and it was as if the oxygen in her lungs was burning up with the fire. The anger welled inside her, and she saw fire spreading from her finger tips, engulfing the grass around her._

_“That’s it…” the voice was soothing, nurturing, and she felt someone brushing her cheek. The fingers were soft, but there was something else, a faint red glow, more vibrant than her phylactery. Eliza looked up, an abomination kneeling right in front of her. Rage demons were sprouting from the bodies of those apostates, shifting quickly towards her. She gasped, looking down as the fire around her started to creep up her arms. “Come now…” Eliza screamed, her arms giving out as she curled into a ball, knees tucked under her. She heard a throaty laugh above her, and she just shuttered._

The scream must have been **loud** because that knock on her door pulled Eliza out of the nightmare. She was covered in sweat, leaping to her feet to answer the guard who was asking if everything was alright. Opening the door a crack, she explained that it was just a nightmare. He would nod, wishing her well. Closing the door, she sunk to the ground, waving her hand to put out a few cinders that were starting to smolder on the stone floor. It was late, but with her heart pounding there was no way she was going to be able to sleep. With a groan, she pulled on her breeches, pulled that mess of brown hair into a ponytail and left her room.

The cold mountain air was refreshing against her hot skin, and the clear night helped her clouded head. She flexed her hands, feeling that pent-up feeling, like she needed to run, or fight, or something to get it out. It was why everyone was so worried about her Harrowing, this feeling, a pull, that could overcome her sometimes and make her just want to act. Irving had said it would make her a powerful mage, but Knight-Commander Greagoir warned that it could make her susceptible to demons. Either way, it made her want to just move. Bare feet barely made a noise on the ground as she walked, carrying her throughout the sleeping hold. The patrols didn’t pay her any mind. She must have looked horrid, her long tunic untucked, breeches barely tied; she looked more haggard than even the newest recruit.

Her walk took her to the Great Hall, that Andrastian throne glittering in the fire light. All the hearths were still lit, although no one was there to take in the warmth. Eliza was rarely in this part of the Keep. This space was for members of the court and the inner circle… If she was honest, Eliza was glad she didn’t have to spend too much time there. Court always seemed more dangerous than anywhere else in Thedas. She found herself in front of that throne, lights causing it to shimmer, and the marble figure of Andraste looked as she was being consumed by flames. It was too real, and she flinched as her dream came back to her. Eliza swore she could feel the heat of flames creeping up her arms and burying into her flesh. She held her hand to her head, shaking the image out of her head before she turned on her heels. The urge to run was swelling again, but she only made it a few steps before she nearly ran into someone. Two hands caught her arms, keeping her from colliding, but making her jump with a gasp.

“Oh,” her eyes found another set staring back at her. Eliza found herself paralyzed for a moment, Cullen’s eyes were like warm honey, concerned, but as his hands gently let her go, Eliza found herself taking a step back and shaking her head. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um… sorry… lost up here,” she laughed nervously, pointing at her head.

“I’m just surprised to see someone else up,” he chuckled, and Eliza caught herself smiling for a moment, but shook her head. _No. No. Can’t get comfortable._

“I was… just leaving,” she said, side stepping him. “I shouldn’t be in here…”

“Why not?” The question caught her off guard, and Eliza turned to look at him. He looked just as disheveled as she was, shirt just off center, untucked from his pants and boots. No cloak, no armor, and not a side of Cullen that Eliza had ever seen. He looked more tired than normal, hair disheveled and showing why he earned the nickname _Curly._  Eliza found herself slowing down to a stop, barely making any ground towards that chamber door.

“Um… well this is for the court, and I’m not properly dressed,” she chuckled.

“Neither of us are… or ever will be for Orlesians,” he smirked, and Eliza couldn’t help but smile. He was toying with a small wooden figure, a lion with a spiky crown in its jaws.

“Late game of chess?” she asked gesturing at his hand. Cullen would he look down at the piece, as if suddenly remembering it was there.

“Oh… no… I found it on my desk and thought I should bring it back,” he said, holding the piece tighter. “Can’t use a War Map effectively if we don’t have all the pieces.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be important in the next few days…” he seemed confused, and Eliza just shrugged. “Adamant… Dorian told me that the Inquisition will be moving soon. I’m sure you’ll need everything.” Cullen just nodded, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at the piece.

“Yes… we’ll need everything and a bit more,” he mused. “The Surgeon…”

“I know. We’ve already talked,” Eliza said with a small nod. “She trusts me at the front lines, so I’ll be following with the soldiers to get the wounded to the back lines.”

“Are you worried?”

“A little.” She shrugged, rubbing her arms a little, “I’ve never been in something this big, but… I am, unfortunately, familiar with fighting,” she chuckled. “I mean… I was at Haven.”

“Ah yes…” he chuckled. “I remember. You almost hit me.” That got a laugh out of Eliza. She watched him closely as he took a few steps off to one side of the hall, he gestured for her to follow him. Her feet were frozen for a moment, but that hesitation, faded as he beckoned again. _One in front of another,_ she would find her feet moving.

“I didn’t almost hit you. I saved you,” she corrected, moving through that side door he opened. _This place was enormous, you could fit a thousand men in here and still have space for more._ Of course, she was rarely, if ever, in the main hall. The side passages were completely off limits, save the one to the library.

“If I remember correctly, I saved you,” he chuckled. “And what did you say to me?” Eliza just giggled as they passed down that hallway.

“Andraste’s…”

“Andraste’s _knickersweasels_ ,” he finished with a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before.”

“I picked it up from a friend.” Eliza admitted, pulling her hair down over her shoulder as she started to tug at the ends. “He was always creative when it came to swearing.” Cullen opened a large door, holding it for her, and Eliza would take a step in before freezing. “I’m fairly certain I’m not supposed to be in here…”

“I’ll make sure the guards don’t throw you out,” Cullen chuckled, standing still as Eliza took a few steps towards the War Map. It was on a huge table: war markers, letters, pints, bottles and knives scattered about the edges. It was impressive, and she touched the table lightly as she walked around.

“Wow…” she breathed, “This is where all the decisions are made?” He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince.

“We do our best…” he muttered, even now the map just looked full. He lingered back for a moment before walking to that map, placing that marker in his hand near Adamant. Eliza just couldn’t tear her eyes away, there were dozens of requests from all over the Free Marches, Ferelden, Orlais, Nevarra littered the map with markers, or with notes stacked on the sides.

“Given what you’re up against, I think the Inquisitor and his advisors are doing a fine job,” she said, lingering over Ferelden. She touched the Hinterlands, a few markers were carefully avoided as she ran her fingertips over the map. A soft sigh left her lips, and she looked up to catch his eyes. They were watching her closely, but for what reason she couldn’t figure. Eliza would blush and look away, pulling her hand away from the map. “Is it strange?” she raised her eyes to catch his again, “Being back in Ferelden?”

“Yes…” he said with a sigh. “To be honest, I never expected to return.” He looked down over Orlais, where all the markers seemed to be piling up on top of each other. “But Cassandra can be persuasive.”

“You mean she’s intimidating,” Eliza grinned. “The way Varric tells it, he was basically dragged here in irons.”

“I would not put it past her. But then again I didn’t need much pressure; by the time she found me I was ready to be done with Kirkwall,” Cullen chuckled. “Varric on the other hand… he was close to the Champion and was set on rebuilding Kirkwall. Well, let’s just say her feelings towards the dwarf are… adversarial at best.” Eliza nodded with a small chuckle, although the two worked well together, there was a bit of tension left over the events of Kirkwall and what the dwarf did or did not tell the Seeker. She watched his eyes turn down back to the map, finding their way across Kirkwall and she sighed, _Bad luck seems to follow you, doesn’t it…_

“You couldn’t sleep?” Eliza asked, looking back down at the map, staring at Ferelden. Skyhold was barely on the edge in the Frostback Mountains, but the shapes and cities of Ferelden were still within just a few weeks ride. They seemed so familiar even after being away for so long… a bit of comfort in a chaotic time.

“Uh… yes.” he smirked, walking around and coming to stand next to her. “I guess there’s no point denying it.” He looked down at the map for a moment before trailing his gaze back up to Eliza. She glanced over at him, “If you’re not worried about Adamant, then why are you up?”

“Nightmares,” the word tumbled off her lips before she could stop them. She heard him sigh, his shadow joining hers on that side of the table.

“Same.”

That revelation surprised her… if her nightmares were enough to send her wandering the ramparts at night, then what dreams plagued him? “Look at us,” she chuckled, turning to lean on the table. “The Commander of the Inquisition and an apostate; more afraid of our nightmares than what faces us in the day.” She sighed, the last part was barely a mutter as she ran her hand through her hair, messing it in that ponytail. “Have you tried anything? To help with it?”

“No,” he said with a sigh. “I can’t afford to take a draught and then something happens in the middle of the night.”

“I just don’t like the taste,” she sighed, “Sera has offered me some, but it’s all Deathroot. It leaves a bad taste and…yeah… I don’t like how I feel after.”

“Do you have them often?” He pressed softly, “Nightmares, I mean.” Eliza just shook her head, rubbing her arms for a moment as a flash of that nightmare resurfaced.

“No… they’re just bad when I get them,” she turned her head to look at him, “You?”

“Same.” He repeated, they stood there awkwardly for a moment before Eliza pushes away from the table. She felt his hand gently catch hers before she moved too far away. “Do you… want to talk about them?” She turned to look at him, _Maker no please don’t look like that…_ she bit her bottom lip, a small smirk crossing her lip.

“Don’t worry Commander,” Eliza tried to tease, “You have my promise. I won’t be possessed.” There was a second where he looked wounded, letting her hand go quickly. “I… It was a joke.” A small smirk crossed his lips as he nodded, pushing himself from that table.

“Come on, we are leaving in the morning. We should try to catch some sleep.” He walked past her, and Eliza sighed, running a hand through her hair as she followed him out of that War Room.

_“Andraste’s knickersweasels_ _.”_


	8. The Chaos Adamant

**Here Lies the Abyss** Chapter 2: Chaos of Adamant

A quiet gasp, and a quick movement stopped the rapid slide off of her saddle. Her heart was racing, but after readjusting the reins on her hands, Eliza took in a measured breath. Eliza hated herself and her weakness. There was something about being on the road, surrounded by the clinking and grinding noise of metal on metal that made her pulse race and her breath grow shallow. She had figured out a way to contain that urge to run, finding herself wandering the edges of camp during the night. What she couldn’t figure out is how to sleep. The first week was fine, but then the nightmares started, and after a month she couldn’t get more than a few hours of sleep before they took her. Every night it seemed she was plagued by nightmares that left her sweaty and shaking when she woke. It was a miracle that her shouts and screams were not loud enough to require immediate intervention. But it was becoming more difficult to stay in her saddle as the entire camp moved, and the Surgeon was becoming more and more concerned that she was sick. Dark rings were starting to form under her eyes, and her thoughts were fleeting and unfocused. When it came time for battle, Eliza knew she would be a hindrance. Although she hated it, Eliza was finding herself using that sleeping powder that Sera made for fighting. It was safe enough in small doses, and if she timed it right, the grogginess would be over by noon the following day. That draught reduced the number of _bad_ nights dramatically, but Eliza knew it was only temporary. After the battle, there would be long nights that guaranteed that she couldn’t take the draught, but she pushed that reality away. The fear was starting to grow in her; the Fade's adaptation to her inner wants, the fear of that cool, inviting voice, the scrapping and clawing of demons in her mind. _I’ll cross that bridge when I get there._

Adamant was the immediate obstacle. The approach on was at night; something she didn’t agree with but then again, this wasn’t her plan. Eliza watched the front lines advance on the tower, arrows raining down on the troops as the battering ram echoed. It caused her to jump, even though she could see the soldiers fighting. The troops around her cheered as they watched the gates fall, Inquisition troops pouring into the keep. It was on the battlement that the real fighting was taking place. The horn sounded, the second wave was to advance. That meant her. Her primary purpose wasn't to fight, it was to find the fallen. A medic. Her job was to assess the wounded and get them back to the lines… and not die in the process. There were a few other medics in the field, each with their own team, each with their own segment of the battlefield. They were all to meet at the gates before entering the fortress. Then inside, they would do what they could. She had a few Inquisition soldiers, the ones too young to be on the front line, but too old for any of the courier jobs. They treated her with respect; as Eliza had been the one patching them during their training on the way to Adamant. That trust was felt both ways, their survival depended on each other at this point. It wasn't to anyone's benefit if they held back.

Eliza felt herself rushing forward, like a rough tidal wave had caught her and was dragging her into the field with the force of an ocean. Her mouth still tasted like cotton, and the edges of her mind felt fuzzy. A few shakes over her head and Eliza was moving with hastened steps. The soldiers around her felt the same boost, carrying them forward at an amplified pace.  Eliza eased when she could, ordering soldiers where the injured were to go. Some of the wounded were already being led off, superficial wounds, deep lacerations that weren’t life threatening. A few had arrows in arms, legs. Blood, sweat, and remains staining the ground as they walked. Charging a fortified location was costly, and now the Inquisition had to address those who remained.With this sort of fight, the pitched battle against an entrenched enemy and a firmly held position, all they could stand to do was triage: those that could be saved were saved, and those who couldn’t were made comfortable. They moved closer and closer, her section of the battlefield carrying her directly to the gates. Her hands would move quickly, hastening some soldiers out of the way of arrows, providing barriers to all of them as a shower would fall. The battle continued, and she could see that the battlements were slowly coming under Inquisition control. It was a relief, since she was the first to enter Adamant.

The fortress was filled with screams, to the point it was deafening. Screams of battle, of pain, of the dying and of those who found the dead. Eliza would send her men in, leading them. Her battlemage coat blended into the blue-grey stone of the fortress, silver thread glistening as the fires raged. The trebuchets had done their job at weakening the fortress, but the fires were starting to consume stairwells and corridors that they needed to get to find the wounded. She did her best to quell the fires, but the oil the Wardens had planned to use on the siege weapons was making the infernos burn brighter. Wardens and Inquisition forces had withdrawn... mostly. There was some fighting that still was taking place around them, and the frequency only increased the farther they went into the fortress. Their aid didn't just fall on Inquisition soldiers, the Inquisitor held out hope that the Wardens could still be useful. Eliza's own force was diminishing as she sent back carriers with the wounded to make sure they could retreat safely. The few numbers would have only been an inconvenience in normal fights, but this fight included demons. Rage, Despair, Sloth, Terror and Pride demons were still fighting, their tethered Wardens barely holding on as the monsters screeched and clawed at Inquisition fighters. One demon was no match for a handful of soldiers, but they just kept _coming_. One would be cut down, or it's Warden tether would be destroyed, but then more would appear: around corners, under their feet, from underneath bodies. It was terrifying, and made it difficult to concentrate on the wounded and dying. The roar of the Archdemon overhead made matters even worse. The battle was nearly over, but the presence of the dragon seemed to drain the courage that remained in the Inquisition soldiers.  _It’s after the Inquisitor, not you, **focus**_ **.** And that she did, moving around the ramparts to assist the laddermen, working her way towards the inner square.

Eliza was always the first up the stairwell, first into the pitch of battle to try and keep an Inquisition soldier from becoming a feast for a demon. The injured were her priority, and she coordinated with the other medics as the battle started to wind down. The demons were further and farther between, Wardens were giving up… or dead. The dragon had flown off, and everyone assumed it was due to another Inquisitor victory. _That’s_ when the whispers started. _In the Fade?_ Soldiers had seen the Inquisitor fall, along with some of his companions, but a flash of green, that blurred haze, and then nothing… and no bodies. Along with the missing Inquisitor, Warden-Commander Clarel was also dead… a victim of the dragon. With no Warden to lead their forces, the others had surrendered…

It was only after the Fortress was won, that the chaos started for Eliza.


	9. The Aftermath

**Here Lies the Abyss** Chapter 3: The Aftermath

“Move him over there **_now_** ,” Eliza yelled at a soldier as he assisted a wounded warrior. The man had a compound fracture, his elbow was exposed and half of his arm was dangling limply by his side, blood rushing down in rivers, “Get your belt off and put it around the better half and tie it _tight_.” He would make it… probably. The camp was a mess, soldier after soldier coming in. The surgeon was doing her best, and Eliza assisted when absolutely required. However, there were less skilled mages who could do the easy task of cauterizing a wound or use a chilling spell. Eliza’s job a bit more involved: _Set, bandage, move_. Those with simple cuts or abrasions were left for the minor healers and mages, her patients were the halfway point between basic and catastrophic.

 The number of arms, shoulders and legs she had set was staggering. Fortunately, her men trusted her, and held her patients down as she did her job as efficiently as possible. Bloody hands were washed as frequently as she could, and she was glad they had picked the land clean of herbs between Skyhold and Adamant… even with that they were starting to run low. Compound fractures required herbs, setting, and a heavy dose of healing magic. It had been a long while since the battle ended, and since Eliza put down her battlemage coat, pauldrons, gloves, and greaves. Her iron grey vest was spotted with blood, and her red tunic had been rolled up at the sleeves so she could work. Red was a conscious decision: it would mask most of the blood. She didn’t know how long she had been working, days it felt like, but the men just kept coming in. Inquisition soldiers, Grey Wardens, hell half of Orlais could have walked through her tent and Eliza wouldn’t have noticed. In the fight against Corephyus, every body, every sword was needed. As she moved from one cot to the next, feeling the ground giving way under her as she slide on the mud beneath her. It had grown wet under the medical tents, a mix of things from the battlefield: blood, guts, tears, sweat… anything the body could create.

It was a fight to keep her head clear, exhaustion was creeping in, as well as a throbbing headache ever since she got close to the fortress. A few other mages had been talking about red lyrium that they found within the fortress, and Eliza could only assume that was the cause of her head ache. In the fortress, it had felt like a demon had gotten into her mind and was scrapping at her brain, at her heart, the normal song of lyrium twisted into something darker, more powerful, seductive. There was a pull in her mind in that tent though, a soft song dancing at the edges that she couldn’t quite hear, nor could she shake. She knew it was from the lyrium she had on her, that emergency supply if she found herself in a pitched battle where every spell counted. _No…can’t take that here…_ She didn’t need that high, she didn’t _want_ it. Others were doing just fine without the boost, she could too. Moving to a new cot she just took a shaky breath and soothed the soldier under her hands, hair was falling in her face as her messy ponytail barely held together.

“Take a breath in three, two, one...” **_Pop_** , the boy screamed as his upper arm found that shoulder socket. She would nod at one of her aids, who came to bandaged the arm to the boy’s chest. He let out a groan and she just placed a hand on his shoulder, soothing the pain with a little magic. “This will help, but the pain will come back in a bit. Go lay down, drink some water, and remember to breath.” They couldn’t hand out what herbs they had for pain, _not enough to go around…_ Every once and a while she would see Cole, but he didn’t stay in her part of the infirmary… he was with the Surgeon… and the dying.

“I want to see the surgeon!” Eliza moved to the next cot. His leg was cracked, his smaller fibula was jutting through the flesh and he thrashed. It must have been a fall, or one of the demons having slashed the weak part of his armor. The Templar had some of his men around him, and she motioned for them to take the greaves off his legs and remove the heaviest parts of his armor. They moved after a moment of hesitation, and after she gave them a stern look.

“She’s busy with others who have swords or arrows in their gut,” Eliza brushed the sweat off her face, blood smearing on her forehead as she took a seat next to him, looking at his leg. It was a nasty break that was going to be hard to set. _Great… one of these_. They required some patience, and some good men to hold down the patient. Eliza had practice, and _most_ of the time it worked on her first go, it depended on how cooperative the patient was.

“I don’t want a fucking mage, I want the damn surgeon!” he bellowed. He couldn’t have been much older than she was, mid-thirties? Maybe forties? His hair was receding, brown hair cut short to try and hide that fact that it was disappearing of its own accord. Sweat was pouring off his face, and she knew that he would have a fever soon if his would was left open in that damp, filthy air that was lingering in the infirmary. He was a Ferelden from the sound of his voice, and from the attitude against mages. Eliza just sighed, moving to lean over the cot so they could talk face to face.

“I’m all you got. You wanna walk ever again? Without a stick?” she growled, and he moved to lash out at her, metal gauntlet swiping at air. Eliza felt the metal pass near her chin, and there was a shout as the Inquisition soldiers went to hold him down. The Templars around her started to draw their weapons and she sighed, sitting back down on that stool. “He’s going to lose the leg if we don’t set it and clean it.”

“He says he wants the surgeon.” The boy whose sword was on her shoulder couldn’t have been more than a teenager. Eliza highly doubted the boy had completed his vigil and oath, let alone been assigned to a Circle or Chantry before the rebellion started. Either way, she didn’t move.  Eliza couldn’t decide if it was because she was exhausted, or worried that this child was dumb enough to actually hurt her.

“I told him, and I’m going to tell you, so listen very closely because apparently the common tongue is hard to understand,” those green eyes were cold, as deep as an emerald, but sharp enough to make that boy nervous. “The Surgeon is looking after those that have a likelihood of dying. Your friend doesn’t, so he doesn’t get to see her. His leg, however, is at a very high risk of being lost. If he continues to be an _idiot_ , he might very well lose it. If you want me to save his leg, then you need to put that sword down and hold him for me.” She saw the Inquisition soldiers moving towards the young templar and she held up her hand and they paused. The blade got closer to her neck and Eliza swallowed nervously. “You really, really, don’t want to kill a healer, boy. Not in here, not right now.”

“Hhow can I trust you,” his voice nearly cracked and Eliza could feel that ice creeping up her finger tips. If she was going to freeze him, she would have one shot before that sword cut her throat…

 

“ **MOVE IT!** Ya dumb igiots! Get out of the way!” A trail of people burst through the tent’s opening. That young templar’s eyes went wide, startled. Eliza watched as an Inquisition soldier came up alongside him, restraining his arm and driving him to the ground. He let out a grunt, thrashing a bit as his face was pressed into the mud, the soldier’s boot stomping down on his hand and forcing that sword loose. Eliza turned away from the now restrained templar to watch as Sera came rushing through, throwing people to the side as Iron Bull nearly toppled the tent with his horns. He had someone clutched in his arms. Half of the Inquisition team came bursting through that tent, and Eliza just watched with a dazed look.

“I can take care of it…”

“Shut up, Vivienne,” Sera hissed as Iron Bull set the Seeker down on an empty cot; Dorian, Cole, and Vivienne following close behind Sera and Iron Bull.

“What do you mean he _disappeared?!”_ that roar shook Eliza, and most of the soldiers in the tent froze. Cullen walked in, dirt and the grim of battle covering his cloak and armor. He paused at the entrance of that tent, scanning the unusual settle. Those honey-brown eyes darted between the Inquisition soldier who was restraining a Templar, the discarded sword in the mud next to Eliza, and then to Eliza whose attention was now turn to the hurt Seeker. The Inquisition soldiers quickly saluted, someone picking up the sword and getting it out of the way. Cullen just shook his head at them with a frustrated growl and they went back at ease. Eliza stumbled a little as she walked towards Cassandra, catching herself on the edge of the cot.

“What happened?” Eliza sighed, pushing the hair out of her face. The Templar behind her started screaming, and she growled, turning around to face him. “Are you going to let me save your leg or not?” Tears was streaming down the man’s face, and Eliza nodded at her men. They held him and she returned to his side. Her hands were ice cold, and she braced his foot against her stomach as she lined up the leg. A twist and push and a scream later his leg was set. He thrashed and she looked at the Templar friends. “Hold him. You two, bind up his leg and raise it up so it’s above his chest.” The Inquisitor’s party watch the entire scene unfold, a little startled, but Eliza just ignored it as she finished her job. The Templars would hold the thrashing man down as the Inquisitions soldiers did as they were instructed. Eliza supervised for all but a minute before turning to the unconscious Seeker.

Her hands were bloody, and the Inquisition soldiers brought her water. Bloody hands dipped into the water and it nearly boiled on contact as she tried to clean her hands. The water turned to the color of mud and she growled in frustration as she tried to get all the grime of her hands. Dorian came over, looking at her wide eyed and panting. “What happened, Dorian?”

“Pride demon,” he said with a breath. “After the dragon flew off there was a demon just waiting to clean up the leftovers.” Cassandra was unconscious and pale, Vivienne nearby as Eliza scrubbed her hands in that nearly boiling water. She removed them, steam evaporating from her hands and drying them in a minute. She leaned over Cassandra, fingers moving quickly to remove the chest plate, feeling the underlining was wet. She sighed, taking a seat as her hand moved under the Seeker’s tunic, searching frantically for the wound.

“Uhhh,” Iron Bull muttered, watching as Eliza started to reach around Cassandra’s mid-section and then along her sides. Eliza just growled, frowning as she tried to concentrate.

“I don’t know how the Qun handles such injuries, but there is a wound that is bleeding **bad** that I need to seal. If that means I’m reaching under her shirt, I’m sure the Seeker Pentaghast will understand,” Eliza nearly barked.

“Darling there’s no need to…”

“Madam La Fer, I really don’t need your opinion.” Her voice was curt as she moved her hands deftly over the Seeker’s side, looking for that split flesh. “Right now, I think my panic and concern are well measured...” she groaned in frustration, “For Andraste’s sake… Dorian can you help?” He nodded, helping Eliza by moving Cassandra onto her side. The gash extended from the Seeker’s side around and almost all the way to her spine. Eliza would focus, her hands hot as she touched that wound. It was a struggle, her head pounding against her temples as she moved her fingers slowly, cauterizing the gash as cleanly as she could. Cassandra let out an unconscious groan, and she just bit her lip.

“Eliza…” Cullen’s voice was thin. She couldn’t look at him, and it wasn’t because she looked like she had been chewed up and spit out by a marabi. That tone had cut her deeper than she expected, His _men are dying around me, I’ve been setting their limbs and easing their pain for hours and we are nowhere close to being done. Not another loss, not one of mine, not this one… not her… not the Seeker_. Eliza grit her teeth, her arms trembling as she felt down the cut. There were a few places where the blood flowed freely, and her fingers, white hot, did her best to seal those gaps.

Cassandra groaned again, “I know… I know… I’m almost done.” Eliza caught herself whispering gently as she worked. The Seeker was unconscious, Eliza knew that, and knew that her words weren’t going to soothe anyone… well.. maybe they would soothe the healer whose hands were trembling with effort. Eliza looked at Dorian, words unspoken, he nodded, holding Cassandra’s arms over her chest.

“What…” Sera’s voice trailed.

“Her arms are in the way,” Eliza explained as she moved, fingers lingering only long enough to do their job. Eliza sighed, her hand pressing over the wound and she channeled a lot of her remaining magic into the spell, a green glow appearing under Cassandra’s tunic. The skin knit together, reforming in the right order as Eliza’s breath struggled. She finished, wincing as she pulled her hand back. It was bloody, glowing faintly green before she flicked her wrist and it dissipated. Blood was dripping off her finger tips and Eliza struggled to catch her breath. Cassandra was still unconscious, but no longer bleeding; the healer’s job was done, now it was up to Cassandra.  Eliza folded her arms in front of her, resting her head in the middle as she leaned on the edge of that cot. Sharp pain rested just behind her eyes, the light in the tent, even as soft as it was, made her feel sick, and her breathing was ragged. Mana imbalance if she could call it anything, but instead of having amassed more mana, she was tapped out and trying to draw from an empty well.

Eliza felt hands on her back but she shrugged them off, “I’m fine. I just need to catch breath.” She could hear people shifting away, the moment of terror and worry passed. Vivienne’s voice fluttered over the rest, she was taking over giving orders to the Inquisition soldiers in the tent. Eliza wanted to yell at her to back off, but she wasn’t in the right state. People still needed help, even if one healer needed to take a break.

“How long have you been working?” it was Cullen’s voice. She didn’t know whose hand touched her shoulder again, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t have the energy to shrug it off as her headache crippled her. She drew in long steady breaths in an attempt to reign in her racing pulse. _Calm down or you’ll pass out_. A knot was forming in her stomach, and she felt sick, but she couldn’t afford to rest, not now.

“Second wave.” whomever was still behind her… they were talking. Eliza couldn’t pick out the words, but she leaned back, sitting up as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. _Hold on a few more hours.._. That hand on her shoulder shifted lower, catching her under her arm, pressure signaling for her to stand. Eliza would shake the hands off, pulling away with a groan. “I’m **_fine._** There are good men that need my help.”

“No, you’re not _fine_ ,” it was Dorian, his hands out, palms up as he offered a hand. “Although I love the fact you’re trying to be the hero, you are at your limit. You need to rest.” Eliza stood, not taking Dorian’s hand though. She backed up to lean against one of the posts keeping the tent standing. Her legs felt like jello under her, and she pressed her head against the pole, relishing the slight coolness. _Now is not the time to rest. Stay awake._

“There are other soldiers who need help,” she stumbled as she took a step towards another cot. Another man screaming and begging for help. Another break to set. She gritted her teeth as her second step was less sure than the first. The third had her knee buckling, but before she could hit the ground a set of hands caught her from behind. She shrugged, trying to shake them off, but they didn’t move.

“And there are other healers who can help them,” it was Cullen’s voice this time. Eliza went to protest, but the edges of her vision began to grow fuzzy.

“Eliza…” Dorian’s voice lingered in her ears, and she shuttered.

“I’m… yeah…” She would stand, pressing her head into her hand.  Eliza felt herself being led out of the tent, whatever protests she might have offered were useless. The air outside the tent was cooler, crisp, the dunes and rocky outcrops in the distance had a faint pink and orange light. _Was it already dawn?_

 

* * *

 

Without mana, she always felt sick, like a stone had been dropped into her gut and her brain had been scrambled. The next… however long… it was all fuzzy. Her knees had nearly buckled when she was led out of the medic’s tent, and it had been difficult for her eyes to stay open. When they opened, she looked up to see the post of a tent, red with faded stitching of the Templars’ emblem. Eliza felt her pulse racing as her hands scrambled for the edges of the sleeping cot. Shaky arms pushed herself up, legs swinging for the edge, but a hand found her shoulder and kept her seated. She turned and saw Cullen, sitting on one of those camp stools against the bed. _Why are you here_?

“ **Stop**.” That growl would have stopped any of his men in their tracks. For Eliza, it was just annoying, _Who made you in charge?!_ Her mind screamed as she came almost face to face with him. _Oh… right…_

“I’m fine.” She started to move again, but she gained no ground as he practically held her down.

“You’re exhausted,” he snapped. “What good is a healer if they collapse _in_ the infirmary?”

“What good am I if they die!?” she caught herself yelling and she just groaned, lying back down on that cot. Cullen just sighed, his hand resting on the edge of the cot. It was a sigh that she understood, she breathed the same breath when she passed someone that wouldn’t make it. Everyone knew this battle was going to cost a lot of lives, and even with all the precautions, the maps, the extra assistance on the ramparts… and yet the piles for the pyres were growing. Even with the victory, the aftermath of the battle was still being felt among the members of the Inquisition. Eliza reached her hand out, knuckles brushing against his hand. She didn't know why she did that. Whatever weight caused his shoulders to sag, for his head to hang... he reached and took her hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze. “Seeker Pentaghast? Is she awake?”

“Yes, and she’s going to make a full recovery. Thanks to you,” Cullen said, and Eliza could have sworn she saw a smile play at the corner of his mouth, that scar creasing just a bit more over his lip. Eliza felt relaxed, and that cot feeling a bit more comfortable, more inviting, when he gave her that good news.

“Thank the Maker,” she sighed. “And the Inquisitor?”

“We… just received word. He returned with Varric, Solas and Blackwall…and Warden Alistair,” She felt him squeeze her hand, “They are alright… although the stories they tell are… difficult for some of us to believe. But Hawke…” Eliza couldn’t stand to look at him, knowing those eyes would be searching hers for any response to that news. Cullen wasn’t dumb, and Varric wasn’t the quietest. _Hawke didn’t make it back. I’m alone…_

“At least Trevelyan is back,” Eliza sighed, feeling another pulse on her hand as Cullen squeezed it. He let go, looking down at her.

“Rest for a few hours…” Cullen said as he walked to the tent’s opening. “and I’ve told the guards you’re not allowed to leave before then.” A growl came from that tent, and Eliza would move back to the cot. He chuckled, looking back at her, “You were always stubborn.”

“You have no right to call the kettle black,” a smile crossed her face when she heard him laugh, but then that tent got very quiet. Eliza struggled to keep her eyes open, to resist the urge to pull that draught of lyrium from her waist, to rejoin the recovery effort. Staring up at that sword embroidered on the tent, she felt a pull on her heart. Hawke was dead… she never met him, and heard he was a little bit of a jerk, but still. Why did that sudden wave of sadness hit her? Was it because Hawke _had_ been her only family? She could feel herself getting light headed, and she sighed. The only thing she could do was muster the strength to finally close her eyes and drift off to an exhausted sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long enough for a page break, but I didn't want a pitifully short chapter. It didn't make sense lol


	10. Starkhaven

##  Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts 

### Chapter 1: Starkhaven

Skyhold was that steady place that seemed to ground everyone. After the battle of Adamant, no one in Thedas questioned the might of the Inquisition. And after a second trip into the Fade, the whispers around the Herald of Andraste only grew. The Inquisitor was in a continuous state of tying up loose ends before the next big step at thwarting Corephyus. This often meant he was gone for months at a time, visiting the Hissing Wastes, Hinterlands, Storm Coast, Exalted Plains, Emerald Graves… seemingly traveling through half of Thedas. There were Grey Wardens at the keep now, and they continued to get recruits at a staggering rate; and that was **_before_** the Inquisitor slayed a High Dragon. Eliza was kept busy, since for every mission the Inquisitor and his companions went on, there were dozens of missions coordinated by the Ambassador, the Spymaster, and the Commander. The soldiers under their command would come back to Skyhold with either long tales of daring fights, or with a long list of injuries that needed patching. Eliza was getting better at setting bones, as well as dealing with illness and disease that was common in barracks. They got good enough food at Skyhold, considering where they were in Ferelden, but that many people in a small space led to some nasty outbreaks.

If she wasn’t in the newly expanded infirmary, Eliza found herself walking the Chantry gardens, or in the library relaxing with a book. If Dorian was there she would get a detailed report of the Inquisitor’s latest escapades… or at least how Dorian saw it. Of all the Inner Circle, they were the closest. She worked with Cole once and a while after a battle… he lingered in the infirmary a lot. He looked pained now… whatever happened at Adamant was wearing on him, and he would mutter constantly about “them being nothing alike”. Eliza didn’t want to pry, it wasn’t her place, and more often than not he would disappear before she could even speak to him. Her walks brought her in contact with Cassandra, who thanked her for her work at Adamant. There was only a thin scar on the Seeker’s side, and she was genuine in her thanks. Her abilities impressed enough templars to soothe some of the feelings between them and the apostate that lived among them. There were other mages, but they kept their distance from the Templars. No matter what Eliza did, it seemed as if she was stuck in close quarters with them. The task of handing out lyrium had fallen on Eliza and the Surgeon, with some guidance from the Chantry and Seeker. It reality, it was Eliza and the surgeon’s job to prepare the doses, the Chantry’s job to hand it out. Most of the Templars were handling the change well, if they got their regular doses. Any delay, due to a deployment for instance, was usually met with a poor attitude, followed with an apology. With her dreams plaguing her, Eliza didn’t take a single drop of lyrium. Some of the other mages did, but they all helped each other when it came to resisting that call, that _hum_ that got in their veins. All the Templars had was the chant… and a tall pint at the _Herald’s Retreat_ tavern to get their mind off the hum. Templars still treated her and the other mages at Skyhold with suspicion, but at least no one was lashing out at her when she tried to heal them.

Well… besides one Templar. Martin Widmann. The man was a pain in the ass on a good day, and on a bad day it took a few Inquisition soldiers to keep them from fighting in the courtyard. He continually accused Eliza of stockpiling and hording lyrium, and it took the full extent of her patience to keep from knocking him on his ass. It didn’t help that he used to rank as a Knight-Lieutenant among the Templars at Ostwick… that meant he was, experienced in fighting, used to barking orders, used to getting his way, and normally followed by younger and more loyal Templars. About the only time he had any sort of manners was when a member of the Inquisitor’s Inner Circle was nearby. She avoided him as best she could, and fortunately, her duties kept her busy enough that she couldn’t even entertain his snarky comments to her.

“And there, that’s the last one,” Eliza smiled, mostly talking to herself, pushing the crate back so it would fit snug among the other boxes of supplies. The Western Approach was a long way from Skyhold, and with the battle of Adamant, the Inquisition was focusing on preventing the Venatori from exploiting the power vacuum. Inquisition soldiers were already on their way to deal with a water issue, and a varghest problem, but now supplies would be needed in order to maintain the fort, Griffon Wing Keep. Eliza had overseen the gathering of a base supply of herbs and medicines, enough to get them through the trip and on their feet. Scouts were already in the area to look for the most common and necessary herbs, but it would take time for them to amass a supply necessary for the force they were sending. Turning on her heels, she moved quickly to avoid getting in the way of others who were loading up the wagon.

 Everything seemed a bit lighter since Adamant. It had been a victory that the Inquisition needed, and with it came a flood of volunteers, supplies, and prestige from the corners of Thedas. It was a pleasant turn of events, being able to feel as if your effort was worth it. Taking a few steps back, Eliza felt a pair of hands catch her.

“Aye lass, watch out,” the Starkhaven accent was unmistakable. She turned, blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The man was just a few hairs taller than her, brown hair long but pushed back either with a comb or just because it was stuck under a helmet for so long. The Inquisition helmet was tucked under his arm, and their green eyes met for a moment. He had to be close in age with her, and Eliza felt her throat tighten for a moment, “Oh… Knight-Captain Rylen.” He smirked, that scar on his right cheek shifting.

“You have me at a disadvantage.” He chuckled, but it didn’t last long as those green eyes narrowed. “Do I…”

“I’m sorry I bumped into you,” Eliza interrupted. “I was just finishing up stocking the medical supplies. Everything should be fine now.” She was talking quicker than normal, and she started to tug on the end of her hair, offering a weak smile. “I think I should get out of your way.”

“Let’s walk for a moment, Serah,” Rylen said with that rough voice, causing Eliza to pause mid step. A soft sigh escaped her lips and she tugged her hair out of that braid. Turning, Rylen extended his hand, a cooler look in his eyes, and Eliza would start walking the way he motioned. _Andraste’s tits…_

The walk was awkward, away from that gate, towards the stables and then up the stairs near the broken part of the battlement. Not a word was exchanged between the two the entire time. The silence was stifling, and when Rylen finally came to a stop near one of the towers, Eliza found herself trapped. He was leaning against merlons, letting out a sigh as he looked over the mountains.

“It’s a sight, I’ll give the elf that,” he finally broke that awkward silence, turning so he was looking at her. “Ye already know I was a Knight-Captain?” Eliza would just nod and his lips curled into a grin before turning to look back out over the Frostbacks. “Aye, well you must know I was at Starkhaven. Came down here after the Knight-Commander agreed to join the Lord Seeker in running to the hills and abandoning our mission.” Eliza shifted from one foot to the other, biting her lip as he continued. “Anyway, but when I was Knight-Captain, we had this apostate issue. ‘ell, it wasn’t an _issue_ per say, the Knight-Commander wanted the apostates running from Kirkwall all round up. I didn’t like it, that Meredith was insane, but orders were orders and having mages running around never seemed to sit too well with anyone. So, I sent my men out there, and when they returned they were empty handed. All bruised up, tattered, said that some daft girl from the Marches, but spoke like a Ferelden, fought like she was possessed.” Eliza swallowed, though her throat felt like sandpaper. “You know anything about that Serah?”

“I… um… that was me,” Eliza sighed. There was no point in lying, the tattoo-faced Starkhaver knew it was her, and she wasn’t going to insult his intelligence by trying to lie her way out of it.

“Ah… so yer the Witch of the Lake.”

“ _Witch of the Lake_?” Eliza choked back a laugh. “What? Is that the Starkhaven version of the Witch of the Wilds?”

“Might as well be. Men said you fought like a demon with tooth and nail. That you could appear and disappear in the fog that rolled off that lake as if you controlled it. I never actually _saw_ you fight, but damn the stories they told,” he shrugged. “But lookie here. I didn’t think I’d actually run into you after the War started. Small world.” He let out another laugh, and Eliza just crossed her arms.

“What? You walked me all the way up here, to see if I was this _Witch of the Lake_?” she tried to soften her tone, but after the charade, her nerves were a bit shot. It was the dumbest nickname she ever heard of… the Witch of the Wilds was real, everyone in Ferelden knew that, but giving her a nickname like that? _Ridiculous_

“I just wanted to talk,” he grinned, “Not every day you meet an apostate like yourself. What were you doing up in Starkhaven?” Eliza turned to look away from him and she could hear him chuckle, “What? You think any of that matters now? There are holes in the sky, Archdemons, and a bloody Magister bent on destroying the world. You really think I’m going to try and bring in an apostate? What Circle am I gonna put you in?”

“When I left Ferelden, I just tried to stay on the move to avoid… well Templars. I was in Markham for a while, but the Chantry there found out about me and sent their Templars. I was following the road north, hoping to get into Antiva. It was either that or work my way south to Kirkwall…”

“Yeah, that would have been a pissing awful choice,” Rylen grumbled and Eliza just nodded, rubbing her arms. “But you’re an Amell, eh? Why not go runnin’ back to Kirkwall durin’ the Blight like yer cousin? Ya at least had family there” Eliza’s head shot over to Rylen, and he just chuckled. “I…uh… knew yer name, not yer face.  Commander mentioned ya after Adamant.”

“Um… thanks. I… I was there for a while, after the Qunari attack. It was a little… tense in Kirkwall so I didn’t stay that long.”

“Tense is a mild way of putting what sort of shite storm that city was in,” Rylen laughed. “What ya do there?”

“Um… honestly I went there for food and a soft bed,” Eliza shrugged. “Then I ended up leaving after I found out about the Underground and… the guy who was starting to take it over.”

“Met that Apostate?”

“No… I was too afraid to after I heard about Justice and some of the things he’d done… or almost did,” Eliza shivered. “I left, but I promised I’d help anyone I found on my way north. That seemed to appease the Underground enough.” Rylen would just listen, and watch her. It was unnerving, she had heard he was direct, but everything about him was. “What are you staring at?”

“You, literally, beat every knight I sent at you. There had to be at least twenty in total, from Knights to Lieutenants, and they were all sent back black and blue as if they were green from training,” he chuckled, running his hand through his hair again. “You, a wee lass, knocked them around like they were those dummies the Seeker wails on, but you didn’t kill any of them.”

“None of them tried to kill me. So I was going to do the same...”

“That’s horse shit and we both know it,” he cut her off. “There were plenty of those guys who wanted to get ahead in the ranks. Bringing you in, _dead_ or alive would have made my Knight-Commander very happy. They must have tried to kill you. But you didn’t kill them.”

“...I stabbed a few,” she offered with a shrug.

“Aye, you did." Rylen chuckled. "I always tell them to not let their guard down when mages don’t have a staff, but they never believe me until they see it.” Rylen's expression turned serious, “So, why didn’t you? That Anders fellow in Kirkwall would have.”

“I’m not that kind of apostate.”

“So I’ve heard,” he smiled. “Ya still didn’t answer.” Eliza bit her lip again, moving to one of the merlons to lean against, looking at the Frostbacks. The wind was cool against her face, and she just sighed.

“I didn’t want to, and I never got into a situation when I had to,” she just laughed. “I don’t like killing. It happens, and I’ve had to, but if I don’t have to, then I won’t.”

“Most apostates don’t try to avoid killin' templars.”

“I don’t hate Templars. It wasn’t why I ran from my Circle,” Eliza ran her fingers through her hair. “If I could have stayed, I would have, but at that time I didn’t think I was safe.” She turned to look at him, “Your men weren’t Red Templars, they weren’t Samson, or Meredith. They were out there because you sent them out there… they didn’t deserve to die because of that.” Rylen just chuckled, moving towards Eliza, extending his hand.

“Well Serah Amell, thank you for sparing their lives, and saving them now.” Eliza seemed a bit shocked, but a small smile crossed her face and she took his hand, shaking it. “The Commander seemed to be telling the truth after all.”

“Oh?” Eliza asked, feeling blush creeping up her neck as she let his hand go. “Um… what did he say?”

Rylen just laughed, turning to go back to those stairs that led to the courtyard and the wagons. “When I went to Kirkwall, there were Amell sigils everywhere. You would have thought they were royalty. Everyone knew about the Champion, but one night, after work, we sat down and I asked him about the Amells and this damn sigil I kept seeing. Would have thought I kicked him in the groin, he starts firing off about this warrior and his band of vigilantes getting their nose into all Templar business, only to find out that they were right about Meredith all along. Well that was Hawke you see, and so when I asked about any others he just got quiet and said _I knew an Amell once. She was a special woman. Never met her like again_.” Rylen turned to look at her from the second step, a small grin on his face. “Aye, you seem like a special woman indeed.”


	11. Dignity

### Chapter 2: Dignity

 

_A sigh escaped her lips, eyes closed as she felt at peace. The battlements were empty, and it was just the crisp mountain air and moonlight. Not even a bird cried. It was one of the rare times that Eliza let her hair down, a breeze catching it gently. Alone with her thoughts, until she felt a hand on her. No noise, just two hands on her hips, rough hands, battle worn hands that moved slowly up her sides, fingers barely dragging against flesh. Eliza felt herself shiver, but it was as if she was frozen. Normally she would have sent a fireball at anyone who touched her like that, but they felt so **familiar**. She knew this person…thing… _

**_A dream, it’s a dream, it’s a dream_ ** _. Those hands continued to stroke her sides, pulling her back into a hard body. She felt lips on her shoulder, trailing soft and gentle kisses up her neck, and she could feel fur tickling her shoulder and neck. **Wake up**. Eliza let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding, and she tilted her head away from that mouth, allowing it free reign as kisses continued. His chin and cheek were rough, the early stages of a beard. It scratched her skin and added to the growing list of things that were making her shiver. Heat was starting to pool in the pit of her stomach, a warmth that was electrifying and worrisome at the same time. Rough and worn fingers pulled at the edge of her tunic, and one strong broad hand reached under her shirt, calloused fingers and palms passing over her flesh. Another shiver and another pulse of warmth rushed over her. “Why can’t I have one dream that doesn’t end in attempted possession…” her breath hitched as she felt that mouth bite her neck gently, a growl pressed into her flesh._

_“You don’t seem to be minding this one…” the voice crackled, as if it didn’t fit the speaker quite right. “Usually you’ve awoken by now…” Her pulse quickened as that voice evened out, falling into a familiar pitch that made her tremble. Those lips were back on her neck, hungry, as hands wandered over her flesh, knuckles brushing against the underside of her breast, the other pulling her hips back into his own._

_“This… this isn’t right,” she shook her head, pulling away, but a palm rested on her abdomen, keeping her firmly against him, that mouth trailing up to her ear as his free hand went across her hips, hugging her into him as fingers traced lazily across her thigh._

_“Are you sure?” it breathed, kissing that spot behind her ear, “We can keep going…” it was a promise, that hand on her stomach creeping lower and lower, fingers slipping under the waist of her breeches._

_“ **Stop!** ”_ and Eliza woke with a scream. She gripped her mattress, sweat soaking her tunic and pillow, sheets were wrapped around her lower half. A groan escaped her lips, her stomach churning, that heat lingering in her groin. She closed her eyes, rubbing them. “Maker’s breath.” _This isn’t good.._. She thought the nightmares were gone… after Adamant Fortress they had basically stopped. The march had been long, and she spent most of the time tending the sick and wounded. Seeker Cassandra had made a full recovery, but even with the defeat of the demon army, few celebrated. The camp was torn over the Inquisitor’s decision to save the Wardens, now under the control of Warden-Commander Alistair. Varric was taking it especially hard, and any time Eliza saw him he just looked restless, and he wrote. He was sending out ravens constantly. How many people did he have to inform about Hawke’s death? The Commander had the habit on checking in on Inquisition soldiers still in the Infirmary. Many were out and about on reduced workloads, but a few had extensive enough injuries that they were still being seen over by the healers. Eliza saw him more often now than before, and after her talk with Rylen, ever small smile, or word he said forced her to fight back a blush. _Never met another woman like her…_ _What the fuck did that mean?!_ But that smile, slow to curl his lip, a laugh that always seemed nervous, as if nothing had changed since they were at Kinloch…

Eliza pulled herself out of her bed, curses tumbling off her lips as she doubled over on the side of her bed, hugging her knees and pressing her head hard into them. “Stop. Thinking. Like. That.” Each word was emphasized with a small knock of her forehead against her knees. Childish, but at this point she need anything to get that voice out of her head, the feeling of those hands off her skin. It took a while for her to get ready, _it’s going to be a bad day_. Brown hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she struggled to put on a new tunic. There was no way she was going to be able to work, not with this much going on in her head. A walk was the only sense of relief, but after that dream she avoided the battlements. _Why why why why is this still happening,_ it had been years since the dreams were this bad. The waves seemed to come to her like waves, the tide coming in and threatening to drown her and take her, before recessing. This tide was unpredictable, and after ten years she was just tired of looking out for them.

The Chantry’s garden was her place of peace… the low murmurs of the devout, mixed in with lines from the Chant seemed comforting. Years away from the Chantry, and yet there was something still comforting in the old rituals. She walked the pathway, short, but enough of a walk to allow her to slip away. The number of times she walked the paths didn’t matter, it was the fact that in that path she could escape her own thoughts and be at peace. That’s when she jumped when a hand came to rest on her shoulder.

“…are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” she turned on her heels to see Dorian with a wolfish grin on his face.

“You know how much I love messing with your Chantry,” he leaned in with a smirk. “I think the effect of my presence here is wearing off though.” Eliza just laughed, rubbing the back of her neck as the Sisters and Clerics behind him whispered in hush voices.

“You don’t wander out of your library for little things like this,” she teased and he nodded, extending his arm. Eliza took it with exaggerated flourish and she would just let him lead her back down that path.

“You are absolutely correct. But if it wasn’t for me, the tomes in that library would be so one-sided it would cause Skyhold to fall off the cliff.” Eliza chuckled with a nod, “Alas, I have unfinished business here in the Chantry’s little retreat.”

“And that would be?”

“Reclaiming my dignity of course.” Dorian took a those few steps up and into the pavilion, “Alright Commander, wipe that smirk off your face and let’s settle this once and for all.” There was a small table set up with a chess board, one empty seat, and the other occupied by Cullen. He was leaning back confidently, one arm draped over the chair with a small smile on his face.

“Ahhh, I see it’s a matter of pride now. I wonder how long until you cheat like that first match,” he was amused, relaxed. That laugh was _genuine_ as if the chaos outside of Skyhold wasn’t happening. Eliza was slow to walk up those stairs, and his eyes caught hers. “Oh… Eliza…” She gave him a weak smile, which he returned. _Maker’s breath… don’t think about him **like that** …_

“Let’s not bring that up… And this is absolutely a matter of pride,” Dorian said, sitting down quickly and pulling that seat closer to the board. That seemed to pull Cullen’s attention away, and all she could do was smile.

The banter between the two was amusing, and Eliza watched the pieces on the board eagerly, playing out her own game in her head. It had been so long since she played, she didn’t realize how much fun a game of chess was. The strategy, having to out think your opponent, it was a battle that could be drawn out for hours, or cut to a matter of minutes depending on the players. Dorian was playing for blood, but as Eliza leaned on that pillar she could only chuckle, _He’s playing with you Dorian… quit talking and look at the board._ Apparently, her laugh was not quiet enough and Dorian turned in his seat to look, and **_glared_** at her.

“Is there something you would like to share?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. Eliza shook her head, nodding at the board as Cullen moved his last piece.

“No, but it seems that your dignity is still beyond your grasp.” Dorian whipped around in his seat, looking at the board and growling.

“ _Kaffas_ ,” he cursed. “How did I not see…”

“And I win, again,” Cullen just smiled, leaning back in his chair. “How many times are you going to do this to yourself Dorian?”

“As many times as it takes for me to win,” the Tevinter growled, staring at the board. Eliza would chuckle and he turned again.

“Do you think you can do better?”

“Absolutely,” Eliza smiled. “When you grow up in the Circle you get really good at board games.” She felt Cullen’s eyes on her, but courage was failing as parts of her dream flashed back into her mind. The sound of a chair scrapping against stone brought her mind back, and she watched as Dorian gestured firmly at the chair.

“Then you win my dignity back,” he dared. _Oh no_ … Biting her lip, she moved towards that chair, sitting as the board was rearranged. “I hope you get devoured by this lion,” Dorian cursed, rubbing his temples, “He is absolutely ruthless.” A shaky breath passed over her lips as she looked up at Cullen, he was leaning back, hands folded in front of him, watching her closely. _Pull yourself together, it’s **chess**._ Her hand reached out, lingering on her pawn for a moment before switching to another piece and moving.

They didn’t talk, but the silence wasn’t due to some awkwardness, it was concentration. Eliza had her elbows on her knees, looking over the board, running through moves in her head, what he might and might not do in reaction to her moves. It had been a while, and she made some errors at the start, but now the pieces were adding up on either side of the board. That gloved hand would pick a piece, but unlike with Dorian, Cullen lingered with each move. _There is no way this is an actual challenge for him, he’s gotta be toying with me._ Dorian was making comments behind her, but besides a nod and a word here or there, they were dead quiet. Glances were exchanged over that board, but they were quick, as if they wore the next move they would make on their face. Eliza would sit up, moving her remaining bishop into place.

“Andraste’s tits,” Dorian breathed, his hands coming to rest on Eliza’s shoulders as she crossed her legs at the knees, looking across the board at Cullen. His brow furrowed, and he let out a growl, staring at the board as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“It looks as if this game is yours,” he said, looking up with a smile. Dorian was celebrating behind her, but all Eliza could do was just smile back at Cullen.

“So it seems,” she pushed her chair back a little, moving to stand, but he would lean forward, his hand coming to rest on top of hers.

“Please…” she looked at him and saw that plead in his eyes. _He doesn’t want to go back to the real world either_. “At…at, at least allow me a chance at redemption.” She would chuckle, pulling that chair back to the table.

“As you wish.”

 

* * *

 

“Maker, I haven’t had games this good in years,” Cullen laughed, leaning back as Eliza let out a frustrated growl.

“The game is yours,” she huffed, running a hand through her hair as she looked down at the board. The morning and afternoon had come and gone, neither noticing as they played through game after game. With the exception of a few reports and one diversion to the war room, there were no breaks, no interruptions, just the two of them. The score was pretty much split, but Cullen had won just a few more games. “How did I not see that last move?”

“You were too focused on the future steps that you didn’t have a clear vision of the board,” he smiled, and Eliza just sighed. “To be honest, I thought you had me beat a few times.”

“I did too,” she chuckled. “I guess I’m not as good as I thought.” She reached across the board to start putting the pieces back on the correct side. He joined in, the board coming back to its original start quickly.

“Don’t worry, it took almost a year for me to be able to beat my sister.”

“You’ve told me before…” she said with a small chuckle, “Mia, right? I doubt I’d be able to ever beat her.” His hands stopped and Eliza looked up. He seemed a little surprised, but just nodded, finishing moving the pieces.

“Uh yes… Mia…” he trailed for a moment before shaking his head with a small smile. “I wonder if she still plays.” Eliza pushed her seat back, stretching a little as she stood. The sun was starting to set over the mountains, painting the sky in oranges, reds and yellows. Eliza moved to the edge of the pavilion, turning to look past the watchtowers and towards the west. Hearing that other chair scratch against the stone, Eliza turned to watch him gather up his gloves and walk over to her. “Thank you… for the games. I think this has been the longest I’ve gone without talking about the Inquisition, or troops, or the Inquisitor.” She smiled, leaning against the post.

“It was a nice escape,” she agreed. He reached to rub the back of his neck, wincing a little as he did, but before Eliza could say anything he smiled.

“We should do this again some time.” He caught her mid thought, and all Eliza could do was close her mouth and nod with a smile.

“I would enjoy that. I woke up this morning thinking this was going to be an awful day. This… this helped a lot,” he reached out, taking her hand in his calloused ones. The touch was so familiar, and she felt a bit of blush creeping up her cheeks as he planted a soft kiss on the knuckles. _What in the name of the Maker…_

“I’m glad I could help,” he smiled before letting her hand fall. There was a call from across the courtyard and he sighed, “Duty calls. Goodnight, Eliza.”

“Good night, Cullen.”


	12. Steadfast

**Wicked Eyes, Wicked Hearts**

**Chapter 3: Steadfast**

“Hours, you were there for hours,” Dorian laughed as he pulled a long drink from his glass. They were sitting at a table on the second floor of _The Herald’s Retreat_. The place was bustling, which was usual for that time of night. Soldiers, Templars, Mages, Grey Wardens, everyone pressed into that three-story building looking for their own sense of escape. Eliza was nursing her beer, watching the people below her, as Dorian continued, “And that was just _today._ I swear, how often do you sneak your little games, hm? Do you like to be bored with talk of… well whatever the Commander has to talk about? Really, I don’t think I could have survived. That man is as stiff as a board sometimes and doesn’t know how to take a _joke_.”

“Dorian, many people don’t know how to take your jokes,” she teased, turning her attention back to him. He was twitching, that moustache flicking as he struggled to swallow the liquor.

“And it’s a travesty that no one understands my particular humor. It’s quite good,” he shuttered as he took another drink. “Ugh, but this is not. You people call this liquor? If…”

“No please,” Eliza laughed, “not another Tevinter comparison.” His brow furrowed for a moment, but he could only chuckle and take another drink in response. “Don’t ever act like you hate the Imperium, it’s all you talk about.”

“It does have some redeeming qualities, I’ll give it that,” he smiled. Putting that glass down he leaned back in his chair, legs crossing, “What is really peaking my interest is this little thing you have going on with the Commander.” Eliza froze, struggling to swallow her beer, “Don’t even…”

“I don’t know…”

“That, don’t do that.” He stopped her, “the way you two look at each other is enough evidence to prove my point. There is no denying it. There’s a story, and I want to hear. I told you about my fantastic familial drama, I feel as though I deserve an explanation.” Eliza sighed as he stared her down across that table, lifting her glass up and finishing the rest of that pint.

“It’s not much of a story,” she said with a shrug. That look Dorian was giving her pressed the issue, and she sighed. “Did I ever tell you that I _was_ a Circle mage? It was a long time ago… my mother took me to Kinloch Hold when I was ten. The mages told me that she cried the entire way there, and the letters I got sometimes looked wet… but to be honest I don’t remember what she even looks like. I don’t even know if she’s still alive,” Her fingers were moving over the rim of that glass, avoiding his gaze. “So, at the Circles, it’s like your Academies in Tevinter, we study how to control our magic, what we can and can’t do… but unlike your Academies, everything is reviewed and watched closely by the Templars. There were about seventy… maybe eighty mages who lived in Kinloch Hold when I was there, and like thirty Templars who watched us at all times. It sounds awful, but it wasn’t so bad. There were other Circles that were _much_ worse. Most of the time everyone just kept to themselves… it could get dicey if we had to talk, or if an apprentice had a nightmare and set his room on fire…no I’m serious that happened down the hall from me. Needless to say, interactions between Templars and Mages didn’t really happen. With that... a much, much, younger version of our Commander was stationed at my Circle during my seventeenth summer.” Dorian held up his hand, reaching over the table and pouring some of the liquor from his bottle into her glass, refilling his as well.

“It helps,” Dorian encouraged. Eliza just sighed, taking a sip. “So, was he still the uptight Commander we know today?”

“Um… no… well kinda,” Eliza chuckled. “He was just a Knight-Templar back then. I would say the best way to describe him was _steadfast_. He really believed in the whole purpose of the Templars and wanted to be the best.” Another sip of liquor passed her lips. “I mean, during the rebellion some mages acted like we were walking around in chains and our life was awful in the Circles. Some days were worse than others, being a youth, you just felt trapped in a tower, but the purpose of the Circles was to give mages a safe place to learn and practice our craft. The purpose of the Templars was to protect people, _all_ people. They were to protect mages from non-mages, and vice versa, and he really did believe in that.”

“So yes, he has always been a stick in the mud,” Dorian smirked, raising his glass. Eliza just chuckled, shaking her head. “And what? A secret forbidden romance?” he asked, leaning forward, the corner of his mouth curling into a grin and his eyebrows raising. She couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head quickly as she finished off that glass, flipping her cup over before he could fill it again.

“Oh stop Dorian, I’m not going to tarnish the Commander,” she chuckled. He just took her cup, pouring a little more in, but placing it just out of her reach.

“There, if you need it.” He smirked, tapping the rim, Eliza shook her head with another laugh, but just exhaled.

“We were friends… as much as a mage and templar could be,” this earned her a laugh, “When Cullen first came to the Circle, he would get lost in the Circle, which was normal… there were so many doors, so many floors. At first, I was just taking pity on him and showing him where everything was. I mean, the Harrowing chamber was the easiest, just at the very top of the stair case, but where the First Enchanter’s office was, where the Senior and Junior Enchanters were… it was a maze really. We started to talk after a while, and that’s really what it was… he was a nervous kid from Honnleath who felt like he was doing the right thing, and I was a Free Marcher who had lived in Ferelden all my life because my family found mages to be an embarrassment.”

“Really? That’s it? Maker take me, you Fereldens are absolutely stifled,” he took a drink. “You could at least spin a story worthy of the trash Varric writes.”

“What do you want me to say, Dorian?” Eliza laughed, “That there was some secret tryst?”

“Yes, actually yes.”

“Well, there wasn’t,” Eliza smirked. “We would talk and take walks when he wasn’t on patrol. We would play chess near Lake Calenhad when we didn’t have something to do for our superiors. We were kids; we talked about home, about families, about the other mages and templars. The only bit of drama in our lives was my Harrowing.”

“Now… this is a perfect time to clear up that little practice for me,” he pushed that now empty bottle to the side. “I’ve heard that Circle mages are purposely pushed into the Fade?”

“Yes… to see if we’re strong enough to overcome possession.”

“And if you decide to not partake in the Harrowing…”

“They make you Tranquil.”

“And if you fail?”

“They kill you before you can become an abomination.” Eliza reached over, taking that glass and sipping some of the liquor. “First Enchanter Irving was a little worried about mine…”

“Oh really?”

“Strong willed and rebellious mages tend to struggle with it,” she explained, pushing that glass away. “When you’re at the Harrowing your given a draught of lyrium to drink, so you’re in the Fade. Demons see you, you see them. Demons don’t always want the weak willed, sometimes they go for stronger willed mages because they are also easy to tempt. Irving was worried. It’s not just you though, the First Enchanter is there, as is the Knight-Commander, and a host of Templars. They have their own little process to prepare for Harrowings, but they do elect one Templar to be the one who kills you before you become an abomination.” She pushed the hair out of her eyes. “I’ll give you one guess.”

“No… are you serious?”

“Yep.” She felt the warmth of the liquor in her ears and toes. She knew she needed to get going to her quarters and try and get some sleep. “I mean…” she chuckled. “He stammered through his apology afterwards. But being _steadfast_ , it was all part of his duty and such… That’s how it was though.”

“How did you become an apostate then?” Eliza didn’t look up at Dorian as her grip on that cup tightened, then relaxed a little.

“Um… the Blight happened,” she sighed, rubbing her neck. “I had just passed by Harrowing when the Betrayal of Ostagar happened… the Enchanters were meeting to discuss who the Mages should support. One of them… Uldred, supported Loghain, and when he did not gather enough support he attempted to flee the Circle. We found out that he had been encouraging people to run away from the Circle for years, and was teaching blood magic to apprentices.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Anyway, I was told that in the fight he tried to summon a Pride demon… but failed and became an Abomination. He was too strong for the Enchanters and templars at the top of the tower… and soon he was sending demons out to catch mages and bring them to the Harrowing chamber to be turned into Abominations. Demons were wandering the upper halls within an hour of the battle. The Templars got many of us to the lower levels, but as the battle turned against the loyal mages and Templars… some of them started talking about the Rite of Annulment…”

“That’s the one where they slaughter everyone?”

“Yes, and needless to say that I was not okay with that. I escaped with a few other mages in the chaos. The Hero of Ferelden had shown up, and the Templars were dealing with her, allowing for us to slip out… Some of us made it, others didn’t.” she sighed, finishing her glass. “It’s a hard switch, from living in the Circle to regular life. I just went north, found a boat that would take another Ferelden refugee, and ended up in the Free Marches.”

“Well… that was a story that could rival Varric’s,” Dorian sighed, reaching over and patting her hand. “I’m glad that it worked out for you, friend.”

“Me too, Dorian,” she chuckled. “Now that I’ve been down that twisted route of my past, I think I’m going to take a more direct path to my room.” Her first step was unsteady, but she just chuckled, “Goodnight Dorian.”

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long time between posts. lots of drama on my end


	13. A Thief in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long absence due to personal drama. I'm close to finishing the flick, just took a while to post

Just enough alcohol flowed in her veins that it numbed any memories of the dreams that had been plaguing her. The moon was almost completely gone, barely lighting up the pathways on the grounds. The wind was picking up, brisk cold air rolling over her. Even with the warmth of the alcohol, Eliza shivered, moving past the Quartermaster and Smiths, towards some of the lower fortress rooms. Her status as a healer paid off enough that she didn’t have to sleep in a tent. The bad part of it, was they gave her the room near the Templar’s tower.  
It was late enough that most people out and about were either patrolling, or returning to their quarters from patrol. She took the stairs near the watchtower, moving quickly over the ramparts to those second floor rooms. There was no way she could dream now, that feeling around the edge of her mind signaled a deep sleep, though probably not restful. She would pay for it tomorrow, but right now she just wanted a dreamless sleep.  
“Oi, Mage,” there was a voice behind her, and Eliza was slow to turn. She heard boots falling quickly behind her, and with a turn she saw the young Templar walking over to her. He wasn’t in full get up, but since the Inquisitor formed that alliance with the remains of the Templars, they put their flaming sword on anything they wore. He approached her urgently, and Eliza moved to sit near the edge of the battlement. “You’re the one who works with the healers, right?”  
“Yyes,” she stuttered, rubbing her head. Andraste please make this child go away…  
“And make the potions?”  
“Yes,” she forced a smile, shivering as another gust of wind rolled over the battlements. “What can I do for you?”  
“I…I need a dose of lyrium,” he stammered, his hands bundled up tight in his cloak that he had pulled around him. He was tired… worn beyond his years. She looked up at him, running a hand through her hair. He looked like a normal farm boy; wide shoulders, messy brown hair that was just a bit too long, and soft brown eyes. It was like a doe if you spooked it, wide and afraid.  
“You’ve already had yours?” Eliza sighed, standing.  
He nodded frantically, “Yes… but when we were at Therinfal…”  
“This isn’t Therinfal,” Eliza stopped him. “I’m sorry, but the Chantry controls when we give out lyrium. I just help prepare it. You will have to speak with Mother Giselle.” She went to leave, but felt a hand grasp her upper arm. “Ser…”  
“You… you don’t get it.” He was muttering frantically, “Please. I can’t sleep, I’m in pain.” Eliza turned to face him. “I need it.”  
“I do not have access to the lyrium stores,” she pulled her arm out of his grasp.  
“Like hell you do!” he yelled, causing Eliza to stumble back a little as he advanced. “I’ve seen you take some out, prepare potions for mages, I know you have some!” Her back hit a wall, and she held out her hand.  
“You need to think, very, very, hard about what you are doing,” she warned, electricity crackling over her finger tips.  
“Are you threatening me?”  
“No more than you,” she shot back. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that she didn’t actually want to hurt him, but in a blink, he had side stepped her hand, his own wrapping around her throat. He was shaking, his hands ice cold and soaked in sweat, but Eliza just gasped, clawing at that grip as his other hand reached around her.  
“Come on, you mages always carry a draught on you,” he half muttered to himself as his hand moved over her waist line, trying to find a pouch or anything that could store a vial of lyrium. Her arm moved over his, upper arm resting on his elbow and she would twist, forcing his shoulder down, and causing him to shout out. He released her throat and she held that wrist, turning and kicking him in the chest. He hit the ground with a groan, and Eliza just rubbed her throat. For the Maker’s sake…  
“Go to bed,” she hissed at him. “And don’t touch me again.” She wanted to kick him again, but her head was splitting. Turning her back, she moved to those stairs. It was on the second landing that she felt a hand on her shoulder, and when she turned she saw stars, crumpling to the ground, clutching her cheek. What the fuck…  
“I said give me that lyrium!” the young man grabbed her shoulder, pinning her down with a knee on her side as he searched her again.  
“I don’t have any!” she yelled, ice forming under them and causing the man to slip as his frantic movements made him lose purchase on that slick stone. Eliza scrambled, to the stairs, feeling a hand wrap around her boot and she turned and kicked him, her foot landing on his shoulder. He let out a yell, and Eliza yanked her foot back, sliding down a few stairs before scrambling to her feet. There was yelling on the ramparts, and Eliza watched as Inquisition soldiers came running up the staircase she was on. She held her hands up, nodding at the soldiers as the Templar up the stairs was being restrained.  
They didn’t ask what was going on, simply asked Eliza to follow them. Her head was splitting, but she just nodded, rubbing her temples as they walked down those stairs, circling back towards the Herald, but stopping at the smith’s. The forges were still warm when Eliza entered. They motioned for her to sit at a table at that lower level, and she nodded. Her hand started to steam as she chilled it and pressed it to her cheek. She could hear yelling outside, and the sounds of something being slammed. It didn’t matter, and even though every urge was telling her to run, she stayed put.


	14. It Sings

“Serah Amell,” Eliza raised her head off the table, pushing her hair out of her face. A wince passed over her face, and she did her best to suppress it as her eyes looked to Seeker Cassandra's. She had maybe been there for an hour, she couldn’t remember. It was long enough for the smith's forges to die down, but not die enough to allow her to drift to sleep. The heat staled the air, but it had been 'for her safety' when they closed the windows and doors to the smiths. The shouting and commotions outside had scared her at first, but now, Eliza just wanted to leave. The Seeker sat down at the table across from her, awkwardly placing a glass of water placed in between them. Eliza muttered a soft thank you before taking it. There was a slight moment of hesitation, but eventually Eliza downed the entire glass. _Well this night went to hell…_ “The young man from the ramparts has been taken care of,” it was a sharp statement. Not uncommon for the Seeker, but a surprise to Eliza none the less.

“What did you do to him?” Eliza asked. She toyed with the glass, watching the small drop of water dance around the bottom of the glass before she turned her gaze to the Seeker once more. 

“What would have you done?” Cassandra asked cautiously, and Eliza sighed, rubbing her face with a sigh.

“Put him someplace cool, give him a blanket and a bucket of water and let him sleep it off,” she smirked, looking over her hands. They were bruised, probably from the fall... and her cheek hurt like hell. The young Templar had left her with a split lip and bruises, but in her experience, she had been lucky... it could have been worse.

“Good, because that’s what we did,” again it was sharp. A small glint from the fire light caught her gaze, and that's when she realized they weren't alone. Polished armor reflected most of the light from the embers, but Eliza could recognize the Commander's armor easily... Not that she'd been looking. 

“Good.” Eliza cleared her throat, pushing the cup away as she rubbed the back of her neck. What else could she say? A thousand other questions went through her head in the span of a second: Why were they keeping her? Why had she not been sent back to her quarters?

“We were hoping you could tell us... why were you targeted tonight? What happened before you were attacked?” the Seeker continued. “Our investigation as pointed us in a few directions, so I was hoping you could inform us of your side of the story. My hope is that we can find a quick resolution to this.”

A moment's pause and Eliza couldn't help laughing. The scowl on the Seeker's face didn't help her, but after a few laughs Eliza finally was able to speak. “You’re kidding, right?” Eliza chuckled. She looked to Cassandra, spending just a second to steal a glance to Cullen. The look on their faces made her stop instantly, “Surely you both know. What he said. How he was acting. You don't need 'my side' to explain his actions.”

A scoff from Cassandra was answered with a small 'ahem' from Cullen. She would turn to look at him, and then sigh, “The lyrium that we give here…”

“You know as well as I that the lyrium administered here is more heavily controlled than it was in Therinfal.” Eliza cut her off. The Seeker looked a bit surprised, but Eliza continued. “I don’t know everything that happened at that fortress... I am not as well connected as your Nightingale. However, if that demon was trying to corrupt Templars with Red Lyrium, then I bet they weren’t strict about how much lyrium they gave out and when. Especially for newer Templars wouldn’t know the difference. They wanted to create a habit, and then change an already potent form of lyrium with the high from red lyrium. I will bet ten gold pieces that boy was never coached on how to deal with...” Eliza sighed, rubbing her brow, “He’s… adjusting… to the new dose. I bet a few of them still are, and I’m surprised we’ve only had a few instances.”

“That would match some of the correspondences the Inquisitor has found on Red Lyrium soldiers…” Cullen nearly growled, “Samson could have used higher levels of lyrium to prepare Templars for the switch.”

“But Therinfal was months ago.”

“You couldn't have forgotten...Lyrium sings to you, Seeker.” Eliza sighed with a small laugh. “I know the Seekers don’t use lyrium, but trust me. The song is soft at first, and you can ignore it. It’s like one of those bard tunes you get stuck in your head and find yourself humming a day later. It’s annoying but can be managed. But after a while… it gets louder and louder and then you can’t ignore it. That’s what I’ve been told at least. It sings to me... but our connection with the Fade… its just different for mages. I dunno, it’s not as bad for us of we cut it out. But you get near the stuff and it’s practically begging you to take it. I don’t know how it is for Templars, but that soldier wasn’t faking his pain. He’s going through a withdrawal,” She looked up at Cassandra, “He’s just a kid. Probably joined right when the war started. I bet no one has actually talked to him about it. He’s in pain, and probably has seen or done stuff that no one should have to. He’s trying to cope. He doesn’t know any better.”

“So, what? You’re not angry?” Cassandra scoffed.

“Oh, no I didn’t say that.” Eliza chuckled, running her thumb over that split lip, “he busted my lip and nearly tossed me off the ramparts. I don’t want to see his face for a long while, but I doubt he wants to see me. The thing is that I’m sure that if he wasn’t going through withdrawals, none of this would have happened.” She would stand, wincing a little from slowly forming bruises. “Give the kid a break. Have someone go down there and explain what is happening to him. Get him some help and support, I don’t know, maybe get the Chantry to do something about it. It might make enduring a bit easier... Giselle is good at talking with people.” Eliza walked past the Seeker, stopping in line with her chair, "Can I please go? I... I just want to sleep this off.”

“Yes, but…”

“Seeker, I’m going to be honest,” Eliza stopped at the door. She ignored the fact that Cullen was just a few feet away. She could feel his gaze on her, and it took everything she had not to steal a glance. She had been focus on Cassandra... what would he have said about this? The lyrium? The calling? _The only reason you know anything about lyrium and Templars is because he told you about it so long ago..._ “I’ve had a long day that went from bearable to terrible in a matter of ten minutes. I just want to try and get some sleep.” Eliza heard the sound of a chair against the floor, and she winced.

“Go. If we have questions, I will come find you.” That rough voice was the break that she was looking for, and she just nodded.

“Thank you, Commander.” She turned a little to look at Cassandra, “Seeker.” Before they could change their minds, Eliza was gone.


	15. Well...Shit

Eliza rarely, if ever, handed out the lyrium rations after that night. Members of the Chantry, as well of the Surgeon, handled it, and Eliza made up by leaving Skyhold to gather and barter for herbs and other medical necessities. A familiar groove was finally starting to settle over Skyhold. Most of the buildings had been repaired, leaving only a few watchtowers and a wall that still had some significant work needing to be done. The Inquisition was truly a force to be reckoned with, and it was all thanks to the Inquisitor and his adviser's work. With all of the praise, there was still work to be done. It didn't mean that it didn't have it's issues, internal conflicts occurred. Even though the power of the Inquisition was growing, and peace was coming slowly to Thedas as they beat back the forces of the Void, the tension within Skyhold was growing. 

Eliza sat at that pavilion, looking across the chess board at Dorian. His brow furrowed, a hand tugging at his moustache, the other tapping on the table. She sighed, finally giving into his request for her to teach him to be a better player. His serious didn’t play well on his face, and he would move his piece with a sigh. Leaning forward, Eliza would move her own piece, staring down at the board. _How did you miss that move Dorian?_

“So, I take it you’re feeling better?” he asked, moving another piece around the table, claiming one of her rooks.

“Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as it looked,” Eliza answered, taking her time with the next move.

“What happened to the Templar?” A soft thud barely echoed as another piece moved.

“He went to the holding cells to sleep it off.” She didn’t tell him that it was a lyrium withdrawal. The Templar had his full life ahead of him, and the mistakes of Therinfal shouldn’t destroy his life. Intoxication by any other means was less damaging. Another soft thud.

“You should have lit his breath on fire...before scorching his cloths for good measure.” Dorian suggested. _Thud._

“Then I become a ‘dangerous mage’,” Eliza smirked, pausing for a moment before she moved her piece. “I don’t need to give anyone reason to be afraid of me.”

“Oh no, Maker forbid you defend yourself,” Dorian would move another piece across the board. “It’s not as if you have patched up almost every member of the Inquisition at this point.” 

“Dorian,” she chided, “We’ve all done dumb things when we’re drunk.”

“Yes, for me that includes wandering into rooms that are not mine or flirting with people I shouldn’t. I don't attack people... well I don't attack _good_ people. If I ever do, feel free to light me on fire.” Eliza finished up her move, and Dorian would sigh. “And I lose… again.”

“It takes a lot of practice,” she shrugged. “Do you want me to explain when I turned the game?” He would nod, but as Eliza started to reset the pieces, she saw Seeker Cassandra marching over. _That woman is terrifying…_ “I think you’re about to be called away,” she whispered to Dorian, nodding back at Cassandra.

“Ahhh Cassandra,” he smiled, arms stretched out. “Care for a game? Suggestions for your wardrobe? Or do we need to run off to save the world?”

“I’m not here to speak to you, Dorian,” that Nevarran accident was thick, and Eliza jumped a little when that intense gaze fell on her. “Serah Amell, may I have a word?” She glanced at Dorian, who just shrugged.

“Um… alright.” 

 

Eliza followed the Seeker out of those gardens. They walked for quite a while, making their way up and around Skyhold’s battlements. The walk was terrifying, because they didn’t say a word. Eliza had absolutely no idea why the Seeker wanted to speak with her, and the list of things she might have, or not have, done raced through her head. _Seekers can set lyrium on fire inside a person… don't mouth off…_

“How well do you know the Commander?” she asked, leaning against the wall, looking out over the mountains in the distance. _That was… not even what I expected._ Eliza cleared her throat a little, shifting from one foot to another.

“I don’t know him that well…” Cassandra let out a disgusted sound before turning and glaring at her. “Okay… okay… He was a Templar at Kinloch when I lived there… before the Blight and before I was an apostate.”

“How close are you?”

“Um… what?” she felt blush creeping into her cheeks. Sure, they stole a game of chess here in there where they could just relax from the duties of Skyhold, but after her run in with the young Templar, she barely saw Cullen. Even before, outside of their chess games, they had barely talked. There were small smiles, a wave here or there, but nothing to allude to anything… “Does he trust you?” Cassandra asked briskly and Eliza just shrugged.

“I… I don’t know.” It was an honest answer that didn’t please Cassandra. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re getting at.” Eliza was starting to get frustrated, “I was a mage at Kinloch before the Blight. That was his first posting as a Templar. We were friends okay? I know that’s not appropriate, but it isn’t anything that should involve a Seeker.”

“I’m not here as a Seeker, I’m here as his friend,” Cassandra shot back.

“So then tell me what this is actually about,” Eliza crossed her arms, leaning against the merlons. There was a moment of hesitation in the Seeker, but she would just make a disgusted noise. 

“Commander Cullen has asked me to find him a replacement.”

“What?” Eliza stood up straight. _Wait… why am I concerned._ “Why… why would he ask that?”

“Because he thinks he is unfit for command,” the Seeker said pointedly. “I was hoping that, as his friend, you might be able to convince him otherwise.”

“Me? Why not the Inquisitor? Or why not you?”

“Cullen’s stubbornness rivals my own,” the Seeker sighed. “And the Inquisitor... doesn’t know about our arrangement. If we bring him in now, I do not know how he would react.”

“What arrangement?” Eliza watched as the Seeker shifted a little uneasily, as if just asking for help was causing her pain. _That must have slipped._

“If… Cullen felt that his… condition would interfere with his role as Commander, then I would find a replacement for him. I do not think he is unable to Command, I think he is starting to doubt his ability to,” Cassandra chose her words carefully. “I need your help to convince him that he is still able to.” Eliza pulled her hair out of her normal ponytail, running her fingers through it as she let out a small sigh.

“What _condition_ are we talking about Seeker?” she asked pointedly. “Or do you want me to guess?” 

Shifting from foot to foot, it wasn't normal. The Seeker was always cool and sure. At this point though, that guard was weakened, “Cullen has…”

“... withdrawal.” Cassandra looked a little irritated when she was jut off but Eliza just sighed.

“Yes. When I approached Cullen and offered him a position within the Inquisition, he made his decision to cease taking lyrium.”

“And when was that?”

“Almost a year ago, when he left Kirkwall”

“Well… shit.” 


	16. Give Them Nothing Less

Everyone knew where the Commander’s office was, soldiers, messengers, and the Inquisitor were running into and out of that office to speak to the Commander. It wasn’t even that far away from the gardens where they played chess. Everyone knew where it was, but that didn’t make Eliza feel any less awkward approaching the door. She released a shaky breath, _If it is getting to the point that Cassandra is concerned, I can’t afford to wait. Better just rip the bandage off now…_

The door was ajar a bit, so Eliza didn’t even think to knock. In an instant, she watched as a wooden case, about the length of her forearm, sailed through the air in front of her. It crashed into the wall just next to the door on her right. There had barely been enough time to lean back, but she was able to just enough to move out of the way. The crash was loud enough to alert the guards on the battlement. They took a few steps forward, but Eliza shoot her head, motioning that it was okay.

“Maker’s breath… I didn’t see you…” Cullen shook his head, walking around his desk towards the door. “Forgive me.” Haggard, that’s how he looked, as if he had been on watch for a week without any rest. 

“Cullen,” Eliza looked back at the kit. She knew what it was, having spent enough time around the Templars to know those items. He already had the lyrium… and he chucked it across the room as if it was a demon. _Cassandra didn’t tell me how bad he was_ … “If you need to talk,” she turned to look back at him.

“You don’t have to…” his next step was unsure, and he caught himself on the corner of his desk. A sigh escaped his lips, and he motioned Eliza away as she walked over to him. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Are you okay?” She moved closer to him as he steadied himself on that desk. “Cassandra told me…” There was an awkward silence as he refused to look up at her, both hands on his desk, a pained expression passing quickly over his face before he pushed himself up.

“I wish she hadn’t.”

“She’s worried, Cullen,” Eliza shook her head, approaching slowly. “You are thinking about leaving?”

“Being replaced,” he moved back around that desk. “I made a promise that if this got too bad that I would relinquish command. Promises are useless unless you keep them. I will work within the Inquisition, but I cannot lead… not like this.” Eliza approached him, and he held up his hand again, stopping her. “Don’t.”

“I am not one of your soldiers,” she said firmly. “You don’t get to order me around.”

“If you are part of the Inquisition, then you follow orders,” he barked back.

“For the sake of the Maker, stop being stubborn!” she shot at him, “Let someone help you.”

“You don’t understand,” he said backing away and leaning against the arrowslit behind his desk.

“Then tell me,” she said gently, leaning against the corner of his desk, watching him carefully. “I’ve seen this before. I can help…” Those eyes screwed shut, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, causing him to wince in pain. Another hand balled into a fist and smashed down on the wall, not hard enough to break his hand, but hard enough to hurt.

“I… I keep remembering what happened. I keep going back there. Kinloch,” he growled. “Uldred and his madness. He…” a strained laugh left his lips. “He…my brothers and sisters at arms were slaughtered. I watched him torture them… torture mages before dragging them, screaming, into the Harrowing chamber.” He ran a hand through his hair, “The sounds from that chamber… They tortured me. They tried to break my mind…” he looked back at her. “How can you be the same person after that?”

“I…” she was frozen. Eliza had expected a fight, arguing, maybe something else being thrown against a wall. But this…memories were coming back a waterfall. And it chilled her to the bone. “You were… up there?” _Kinloch..._ It had been the only home she knew, and yet when she left everything was in ruin and coated with blood. How many fell trying to save the mages? How many fell trying to aid and protect the templars? The Harrowing chamber had been the center of the slaughter... and he had been _there_. Cullen just nodded, another choked laugh as he leaned back against that wall.

“Yes… and after…I was so angry, but I still wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my Knight-Commander, and for what? For her to encourage my anger towards mages,” he turned to look back out of that window. “That anger blinded me… almost to the point of ruin. I trusted her to be right about mages, and there _were_ blood mages in Kirkwall. When her madness was finally exposed… I realized she had kept things from me, things that I didn’t agree with. Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets. After, I couldn’t be a part of that life anymore… I gave it up, joined the Inquisition, thought I had a new start…” he growled, fist slamming into the wall again. “But these thoughts won’t leave me… I close my eyes and I’m back _there_.”

“Cullen…” he waved his hand at her, one clutching his head.

“I gave everything to the Chantry, to the Order. When I joined the Inquisition, I swore I would give as much to it as I did to them,” he pushed himself off that wall, walking towards the door, towards the contents of that kit that laid scattered across the room. Eliza walked around that desk, her hand first coming to the door, closing it from prying eyes and ears. “I should be taking it…”

“Cullen,” Eliza moved, catching his hands as he bent down to pick up the pieces. “Wait... wait wait…” she pulled his hands together, holding them in front of him. It was a struggle, but she was finally able to catch his downward gaze. “Look at me please,” she whispered. He shook his head, but his eyes looked at hers.

“I should be taking it… You of all people should be questioning the things I’ve done… the things I’ve said...”

“Stop,” she said firmly. “Stop think about what the Chantry wants, the Templars, the Inquisition,” he looked down again, but she caught his gaze. “Cullen, what do you want?”

“I… not this.” He sighed. “I thought this would be better… that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won’t leave me. All these people depend on me… I can’t give them any less than I gave to the Chantry.”

“You aren’t,” Eliza squeezed his hands. “You’ve given everything for this cause, Cullen.”

“I don’t know if I can endure this…” he choked.

“You can,” she smiled. Cullen just shook his head, pulling his hands away from her. She sighed, rubbing her face as the Commander went to his desk, sitting down with a heavy thud, rubbing his temples. Eliza watched him practically put his head down on his desk, and she walked carefully around him. She let out a breath, her hands chilled for a moment, glowing faintly green.

“Cullen…”

“I’m fine, it will pass,” he practically growled. She reached down tentatively, standing behind him now. Those cool fingers coming to meet his own. “What are you…”

“Just… let me try,” she said softly, feeling those leather covered fingers slowly pull away. It wasn’t much effort, keeping her fingertips cool as she gently rubbed at that soft spot just behind his eyes. His shoulders dropped, that tension under her hands easing a little as he let out a heavy sigh. Biting her lip, she continued, her fingers starting to glow faintly green. One would go to rub at the base of his skull, fingers weaving in that short dark blonde hair, gently massaging soft spots on either side of his spine. She moved back to his temples, working for a few moments as he just sighed. Her fingers returned to normal and she would take a step back, moving towards the door. 

Cullen just rested there, his arms had folded in front of him, on the desk, allowing him to rest his forehead there. When he lifted his head, those golden eyes blinking a few times. Eliza finished returning to that desk; she had picked up that lyrium kit, everything returned in it, but closed.

“Eliza…”

“You don’t need lyrium to be a good soldier, or a good commander. If this is something you want for yourself, then you should do it.” She said simply, walking over to the door. “If... if you need someone to talk to... about what happened, well... you know where to find me.”


	17. The Game

Tension. That was the best way to describe how Eliza felt in the weeks and months that followed that confrontation in the tower. There wasn’t any angry, animosity, or really anything that might make her feel unsafe, but it was just awkward. Eliza felt as if she was stepping on egg shells, she wanted to be caring, but not expose a weakness. She was concerned, but an air of control and level-headedness was necessary if rumors were to be avoided. For her, caution just manifested into distance. Before, it was rare for them to see each other or sit down for a game of chess, now it was almost unheard of. Small glances at each other were stolen here or there, but they lasted no more than a second and may _if ever_ translate into a one or two word greeting and goodbye. 

Eliza pried a few times to get out of Skyhold, maybe go down to the Hinterlands to gather herbs, supplies, anything, but each request was answered with a no. War was waging outside of the walls, not just against demons from the Void, but the Templars and Mages were still roaming the Hinterlands, and now the Freedmen of the Dales were starting to cause havoc. Even though the thought of fighting a rouge mage or templar made Eliza’s stomach drop, the threat of battles and conflicts within Skyhold made her just as nervous. Cole tried to explain it to her once… everyone was just tense and scared. It made sense but didn’t put her any more at ease. It also didn’t help that after her incident on the ramparts, the Templars were keeping a close eye on her. The boy that attacked her had been released and put on an easy job patrolling camps and strongholds on the periphery of Skyhold, but word of what he did had spread. And as happens, rumors morphed and changed with each retelling. She stopped listening a while ago and would have been able to forget the incident completely if it wasn’t for the rest of the Templars. Their gaze reminded her so much of the Circle, quiet watching, evaluating, judging for threats. A familiar fear clawed at her throat, and more than a few nights she could only find sleep at the bottom of a sleeping draught. _Fear and tension… yeah Cole, you summed it up well._ What they needed was a party, revelry, a victory, anything to serve as a safety valve.

  


The Inquisition had spent a lot of their political cards, and risked everything, to succeed at brokering peace at the Winter Palace between Empress Celene and Duke Gaspard. There could be no victory without Orlais’ support, but with their civil war, that support was tied up. Everyone knew of The Game. It was a dangerous, Orlaisian, and one misstep could send everything the Inquisition stood for into the abyss. The Inquisitor had a small saving grace, being a noble from the Free Marches and all, but playing the Game in the heart of the Winter Palace was going to be savage and bloody. No one knew how the blood would manifest, or whose it would be. All they knew is that the Civil War needed to end and leadership in Orlais established if they were to avoid the Inquisitor’s vision and prevent Corephyus’ ascension. 

The Game was played thousands of miles away and across the seas. Peace in Orlais was the key, but peace in Skyhold was just as difficult to come by. The only peace Eliza could find was the battlements. The seemingly endless stretch of stone wall was patrolled consistently, but standing guards were rare. The towers would have a watchman, and a flaming brazier to keep the chill at bay and signal trouble, but the walls were mostly bare at night. She would change locations frequently, favoring the area above the barn now, since it was opposite of the Templar’s tower and _The Hearld’s Retreat_. The Inquisition had returned a few hours prior, and the tavern had been a bustling hive of celebration and libation. Cheers to the Inquisitor, the Inquisition, the Maker, all of these toasts and cheers rang out as songs echoed through the mountains. After a drink or two, Eliza couldn’t handle the packed rooms or heat any longer. She sought the peacefulness of the battlements.

She sat on the ledge often, feet dangling into nothing as the mountain air bathed her in a familiar chill that kept her awake most nights. Her brown hair whipped around her face, down and untamed in a rare moment of apathy as the mountain’s cold air blasted her face and brought tears to her eyes. There was a small cough behind her, and she turned her head a little. “Oh… You survived the ball,” Eliza smiled, turning back to look out over the mountains. The smile faded for an instant as she tried to scramble to come up with something to say. After two months, she figured words would come easier. “I do have to say I am impressed… I wasn’t quite sure you could dance.” There must have been hours of meetings, Cullen was still wearing that formal attire, although the coat had been unbuttoned at some point. He had a white tunic undershirt, which stood out against that red fabric of his coat. She had never seen him in formal cloths, and he just seemed out of place and uncomfortable.

“I didn’t dance,” his voice seemed a bit rougher as he answered, rubbing his neck. _Tired from the travel? Or was the rumor about fighting, demons, and numerous assassination plots all correct_. “Josephine was careful with her instructions,” he continued, “She was particularly focused on avoiding diplomatic incidents. We agreed that my dancing may cause one, so it was avoided at all cost.”

“Oh, I’m sure the Diplomat and Lelianna are planning to use you in some political game,” Eliza chuckled. “From what I’ve seen, those ladies cannot endure for a second without playing the Game.” She heard him shuffle a little behind her. Letting out a soft sigh, Eliza pulled herself back and swung her legs back to rest on the battlements. Standing, she brushed off her pants, finally looking up to face him fully.

“I… I wanted to thank you.” _Um… what?_ That caught Eliza off guard. “When you came to see me…” Cullen stammered a little, head turning a little as he let out an exasperated sigh, “this sounded much better in my head.”

“But you’re feeling better?” Eliza pried gently, leaning against one of the merlons.

“I… yes…” he said with a nod.

“Have you found anything to… help when it gets that bad?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“Time…” he said with a shrug. “The pain comes and goes, but always passes. I should not have pushed myself that hard.” Eliza nodded, taking a step towards him. “I wanted to apologize for how I acted. Sometimes the pain makes it feel as though I’m back there.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” she said with a small smile. He just let out a sigh, rubbing his neck again and she would just chuckle. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Rub your neck,” she settled to lean against the merlon right next to him. He shifted, consciously stopping himself from rubbing his neck. “You used to do it back in Kinloch too.” 

“I must do it a lot then,” he chuckled weakly. “I… I haven’t told anyone about what happened.”

“Not even Cassandra?”

“No… she knows something happened, but not what.” 

“It’s hard for me to talk about too,” Eliza admitted, “It wasn’t… It’s hard to explain to other people. The Blight… Ul…Uldred…” She shook her head, “I stopped trying to explain what happened there a long time ago.”

“Yes,” He sighed, “I was different after. I was angry and… unkind. I did not like the man I was after that, but…I’m hoping I can put some distance between him and who I am now.”

“You will,” Eliza encouraged with a small smile. She took a few steps away from the wall and towards him. “When I was in the Free Marches, I ran into a few mages from the Underground. They told me stories of Kirkwall and the Knight-Captain there,” she watched as his gaze shot straight at her, panic dancing across those eyes. “They said he was some ill-tempered Ferelden. All the mages used to warn that we shouldn’t get anywhere near Kirkwall. That he was a terrifyingly strict man; with both mages and Templars,” Eliza reached forward and touched his forearm arm with a small smile, “I don’t think you’re that same person…if you were, none of the mages here would have stayed for very long.”

He sighed, turning away, “Believe me, you wouldn’t have liked me back then.”

“Well, then I’m glad that version of you is gone. You are more like you were when we were at Kinloch. A little less naïve, but still good.” Eliza moved her hand, but his came to rest on top of hers, his arm moving so that both of his hands encased her own.

“You don’t understand,” he said with a shaky breath. “I…” She just shook her head, squeezing his hands and drawing his gaze back to hers.

“You are a better person now than you were in Kirkwall, and in Kinloch,” Eliza said firmly. “So please stop apologizing.” His hands came to her cheeks, and she felt him pull her into a kiss. She gasped, but he held her firm as one hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight against his chest. He deepened the kiss, tongue dancing over her lips. Eliza leaned in, her mouth parting slightly as she moved one hand to his shoulder, the other to his back, holding herself close as that hungry kiss ended abruptly.

“I’m sorry… I…should have asked…” his gaze fell from hers. His hands lingered on her jaw line and Eliza couldn’t help but laugh lightly as she felt blush creeping to her cheeks.

“Did… did you just kiss me?”

“I… yes.” His cheeks were turning red, and his eyes were searching hers. As the moment lingered longer, his hands feel from her cheeks as he stuttered through another apology. Eliza slowly leaned forward, feeling him tense just a little as her lips lingered just inches from his.

“Ser!” the sound of rushed footsteps on the stairs gave them enough warning to untangle. Eliza’s face flushed, and now it was her turn to rub the back of her neck as she turned her head to look away from that messenger. Cullen turned as that Inquisition scout came rushing down the rampart, papers in his hand.

“ **What?** ” he growled, and Eliza could just barely catch the glare he was giving that poor scout.

“Ser, you said you wanted Lady Montilyet’s reports from Orlais, and she is requesting your…” the scout would stop dead in his tracks when he saw that look the Commander was giving him. Eyes darted between the two and he cleared his throat. “I… should just put both on your desk…”

“Yes, that,” the words were curt, and the scout just spun on his heels, rushing down the rampart as quickly as he could. Once out of earshot, Eliza couldn’t help but laugh, leaning over a bit as Cullen just shook his head, running a hand through that blonde hair. “Sorry.”

“That poor boy,” she finally was able to collect herself enough to look up at him. He still looked unsure, and Eliza would push herself from the merlon. She closed the distance again, leaning up to lay a gentle kiss on his lips. She could practically feel him relax, and she just smiled against his lips before taking a step back. “Good night Commander.” 


End file.
